The Emerald Servant
by Maedel II
Summary: We know who Raphael and Amy Sorel are...but what about the three servants aiding their dirty work? Read the tale of Marienbard, Auguste and Jacqueline and how they came into servitude. Rated T for angst and bloody/gory battle scenes. Rate, review, and most importantly, enjoy!
1. Leaving the Nest

_The Emerald Servant_

**Feidhelm O'Flaherty – Mercenary for a German Army**

**Aislin O'Flaherty – His wife**

**Catriona O'Flaherty – One of three children to them**

**Marienbard O'Flaherty – Second of the three**

**Norienne O'Flaherty– Third child**

**CHAPTER ONE: Leaving the Nest**

_Present Day__Ireland_

"Aislin, I depart today."

My family and I stood in our small and dilapidated farm, sobbing and mourning as my father now had to leave for Germany to give his arms in a cavalry. It was not a choice he wanted to accept, for the Germans had been brusque with their "invitation" leaving him no option. The trip would be insanely lengthened; as our peasant family lived in the colony of Ireland, and Germany was across the Great Empire, through the seas and inland hundreds of miles. I couldn't bear the thought of being forced to do such a hassle. However my father was a patient man, so therefore I just hoped it would be a safe journey.

My mother, eyes red from weeping, wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder. In return, he caressed Aislin by running his gauntlet-covered hand up and down her back. His expression was grave, as he knew the farm wouldn't survive with him gone. My sisters, Norienne and Catriona, ran up to Father and hugged his legs tightly, begging him not to go. I was the only one who wasn't sobbing, but my face was pale and throat dry. I didn't see why he had to leave. I just didn't.

Reluctantly, Mother released her grasp on Father and gently pried Norienne and Catriona away. "Come, children," she spoke in a wavering voice, "leave Father to his own. We shall pray for him every night." With much protest and tears, the three slowly walked back to our cottage. I was the last outside, leaving my father and me to speak quietly. I turned from the direction my mother and sisters had left and put my gaze back on my father, my eyes screaming, "Don't go. Please, just don't leave us all alone."

My father knelt down and put a soft hand on my shoulder. I saw his mouth twitch to speak, but no words fell out. His eyes scanned mine to try and look past the persistent wall I put up, but couldn't fight through it. Instead, he took a small and silent inhale. "Marienbard," he began slowly. "I… You know that I…" Noticing he was struggling to find his departing words, I spoke instead.

"Why? Why do you have to go all the way to Germany? Can't you just stay here and take care of us?" The knot in my throat made it hard for me to maintain a calm tone.

"You know I don't want to leave, Marienbard," he sighed, even though he had told me this too many times before. "But you have to be strong. There are going to be many things in life that you won't agree with, so you must just keep your chin up and keep an optimistic attitude."

Optimism wasn't in my vocabulary; it couldn't be, considering how hard my life already was with being scarcely fed, working aimlessly in the fields all day, and now being separated from my father, the man who had kept us all alive even when we were on the edge of death. My mother was a frail woman, so I just anticipated we would all die of starvation as soon as Father left. I clenched my fist.

"Then why can't we come with you? We could stay in a town nearby…an-and you could visit us when you weren't serving! Can't we just do that, Father?"

He frowned, yet I knew my words pained him. "Marienbard, you know that is something we are incapable of. And this employment is out of my league. I must leave for Germany and that is that. I will come back though."

_If we aren't already deceased, _I thought. Even if that was the case, for some reason I really doubted his return. I breathed in deeply, then nodded my head reluctantly, and my father stood, smiling weakly and patting my shoulder. "That's my girl. Be strong, now."

Those were Feidhelm O'Flaherty's last words to me before he left for Germany. I felt hot tears of anger sting in my eyes as his silhouette became smaller and smaller. I wiped my face with my sleeve and ran back to our miniscule cottage.

As soon as I stepped inside, my older sister, Catriona, started yelling at me. "Selfish!" She bellowed, and her words struck my heart like a white-hot blade. "Harsh! How dare you not shed tears at Father's departure!"

"Leave me alone!" I cried, squinting my eyes shut so she wouldn't see the pain in them. I tried to dash up the unsteady stairs to the attic to be solitude, but she stopped me.

"Alone – you always want to be alone!" Catriona grabbed my emerald-colored hair and started yanking it. I let out a small cry of anguish. "You always keep to yourself. Narcissism! That's what you are! Narcissistic!"

I heard Norienne begin to bawl in the background, and my mother paid no attention to our commotion, as she couldn't get over my father's absence. Unintentionally I turned and thrust my arms out in front of me; striking Catriona and making her fall down. Seeing my chance I forgot about the attic and dashed out of our house and into our seemingly unending barley fields, wanting to shut myself away from the world. From my family. From Catriona. Here I could utterly be alone, no matter what Catriona said.

I didn't stop running until my legs gave out. I knew that I had gone too deep into the field for my sisters to find me, for they had not the courage or the strength. As soon as I caught my breath, I began to sob. Were these the tears I had kept locked up when my father left? Or were they just ones in spite of my life? At the moment I was unsure, but nonetheless I cried till all the tears were gone; until I could cry no more.

Perhaps I was weeping in guilt of what Catriona had said to me. Guilt? That didn't seem right – the feeling was fiery… something more like envy. Yes – that was it – tears of envy.

I had always been jealous of Catriona. She was only four years older than me, yet very feminine and beautiful. Though we lived as slaves, Catriona still could maintain a look a lady would share; glossy, ginger hair, shining, green eyes, pink lips and cheeks, and her body type was that of an hourglass. Aside from her own natural beauty, Catriona would give me negative comments on my own, saying my shoulders were too broad and my chest flat. It angered me to the point where I no longer saw Catriona for a beautiful woman, but a cold-hearted maiden.

I pulled at my own hair as punishment for straying off into those thoughts. I came here to relax myself, had I not? Therefore I just needed to let it all out… I pulled my knees up to my chest and laid down on the no longer fertile soil, the frost lying on the earth tickling my skin. A cold breeze swept over my body which made my skin break out into gooseflesh, yet I closed my eyes as the chills caressed me in a grotesque way. The cold comforted me. I used to despise the winter season, as it made all of our barley wilt, yet now, as I know we have numbered days, it is a very close friend to me.

A fair amount of time passed before I got up, my body numb from the cold, and headed back to the cottage. No one would care where I had gone – perhaps if Father was still here they would. If only…

As I pushed the rotting door open it let out a loud moan, as if it were too old for its purpose anymore. I stepped inside, and Norienne came running to me, surprisingly.

"Marienbard!" she cried. "Marienbard! Marienbard… please help…" Norienne began to bawl, which was a sight I hated to see. As she was my younger sister by three years, I felt as though I had to protect her – and it also felt like she was the only one who cared about me.

I crouched down and placed a hand on her small shoulder. "What is it? Please don't cry…"

"I-It's Mother…" Norienne tried to swallow her sobs, but had difficulty with it.

"Mother? What's happened?"

"She just won't stop crying… it's like there's nothing in the world for her anymore… ever since Father left…"

With Norienne's words I sprinted into my mother's room. There she was, sprawled out on our dirt floor, sobbing her dear eyes out. Catriona seemed to be trying to take care of Mother, but she paid no heed to her words. She just moaned and bellowed my father's name.

"Feidhelm!" My mother's words were a plea. "_Feidhelm!_"

I breathed in deeply and tried to speak over my mother's fit with my trembling voice; "Father said he would come back. He promised."

She only continued her mourning. Catriona glared at me.

"I already told her that. Imbecile! Don't you see that everything you try to do just makes it worse?"

Catriona had made a direct stab into my soul with that phrase. My sight became fogged with useless tears, and my fists clenched so tightly that I drew blood.

"I HATE YOU!" I screamed, catching everyone off-guard – even my mother fell silent. "I HATE IT HERE! WITH FATHER GONE WE'LL ALL JUST DROP DEAD BY TOMORROW! TRY TO UNDERSTAND THE PAIN I'M GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW! PLEASE!"

Having my thoughts fallen off my chest, I ran outside again – yet this time I wasn't going to speak to the cold. I ran into our vine-covered ruin we called a barn and grabbed a scythe. My father had used this to harvest all of our barely, and for some reason it came by to me as most enchanting. I worked for endless hours and days, using the scythe and practicing my father's techniques, and also used it to defend myself against a wild beast as I was strolling aimlessly through the forest one day. I dared not to go back since. For a while it had lied dormant, but at this moment I needed it.

Why did I need that scythe? I needed it for survival, because I was going to Germany.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Sorry! First few chapters are crummy. PLEASE trust me - IT GETS SO MUCH BETTER :D**


	2. Ascending

**CHAPTER TWO: Ascending**

_Rouen_

I knew not how long it had been since I had left Ireland. The trip had been a long one, for that I was certain, and very rough at that also. Stowing-away on the right ships was a very hard task to accomplish, and I found myself on many different countries but Germany. I decided to stop at a place known as Rouen, and I would continue my journey to Germany on foot. It seemed to be the only way.

As I was quietly sidling my way through the alleyways of Rouen, a sudden and sharp pain erupted in my stomach. My legs unexpectedly buckled and I lost all feeling in them, causing me to collapse. I grew weary and dizzy, and for some reason I could not make the sense out of things. After a few oblivious minutes I realized my fate; the last time I had eaten something was too long ago in my memory to recall. I had to eat something quick, or this fatigue would never cease. However when I tried to stand, my whole body ached and had spasms. Conducting a theft of a piece of bread in this condition would be futile.

I pulled my knees up to my chest as I had in the barley fields, and began to sob. No tears fell from my eyes as my body was genuinely dehydrated and famished, so I knew this was the end for me. Back at the farm I had eaten scarcely, but no pain from hunger like this had ever swept over me before. How much I longed for barley oats…

Someone must have been present, for I heard shuffling. I didn't acknowledge it – doing the simplest thing caused horrible pain to blossom in my body. I shut my eyes to try and sleep, but then I heard another object hit the ground. The smell of warm bread filled my nostrils, which only made me weep.

"And now I am hallucinating?" I murmured hopelessly.

"_Non, vous n'êtes pas hallucinant," _came a reply from a boy's voice. Ignoring the pain, I sat up immediately. Even though I did not understand French, I was aware of the base of words and sure enough, right there before my eyes were two hot cross buns. Not hesitating for a mere moment, I grasped the food in my palm and took a vigorous bite out of it. The soft, flavor exploding grain on my dry tongue made tears pour out of my eyes.

"It…tastes so good…!" I wept through a full mouth. After swallowing, I looked up to thank the boy who had been so generous to me; yet he was blanketed by the shadows, and I could only make out vague features of him.

"Thank you," I breathed, "a century's time thank you. No one has ever been this generous to me." Though I knew he probably did not understand English, I spoke anyway – I just had to someway express my thanks to him. The boy surprised me by his reply;

"So you're from Ireland."

I blinked. "Yes…how could you tell?"

"By your accent," he snorted. "And why English instead of Gaeilge?"

"My father thought it was wise to teach us the Great Empire's language…since it is used by so many."

"The 'Great Empire'?" I was astounded he had never heard of the Great Empire.

"Uhm… Br-Britain…?" I felt unmoral for addressing it as such, but the boy was from Rouen so of course he would speak ill of it.

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Of course. Sorry…" He only muttered those words.

I swallowed as the conversation was getting a little bit awkward. "Ah, um… do you have a name?" I tried to move a bit closer so I could try to see the details in his face, but something bizarre-shaped and fur-lined got into my way.

"Yes, of course I have a name." With what he said I scrunched my nose; he was beginning to remind me of Catriona. "I-It's Auguste."

I took another bite of my bread, chewing slowly and thinking of his name. Auguste… I seemed to be fond of it. Shaking my head, I said in return;

"Auguste… Hm. I'm Marienbard."

Auguste leaned in, out of the shadows, to where he was only a few inches away from my face. I saw his head was that of a mighty wolf, and I couldn't utter out the fear that had swept over me. When he didn't dig his yellow canines into my pale skin, I relaxed a fraction of an inch.

"Marian the Bard?" he exclaimed in a rather excited voice. "You're a poet? Why're you dressed in rags, then?"

I swallowed hard. "N-no… it is just… _M-Marienbard_…" I exhaled very deeply. "An-and you are a werewolf…?" My voice cracked at the end of the word.

Auguste chuckled. "No. It's just a mask," and he backed away from me. "My father was a valiant poacher," Auguste explained.

"Was he arrested?" I said through a mouthful of bread. "You know, for his crimes?"

Auguste sighed. "Unfortunately. Actually, he was even charged with the death penalty. I wear this in honor of him."

I bowed my head respectively. "I see. I too have had my father taken away from me unfairly."

Auguste came from the side of the alley and sat by my side, wrapping an arm around me. "In that case, we orphans must stick together."

I kept my gaze fixed on the bread that was in my hands, and smiled. "No – he isn't dead. He was sent to the Germany cavalry without say."

"I heard about that!" Auguste exclaimed, and I looked at him in surprise.

"You know Feidhelm O'Flaherty?"

"No, no," He laughed at my bewildered expression. "I meant about the mercenaries. Apparently they're forcing just about everyone who can wield a weapon to join."

At his words I involuntarily placed my hand on my scythe that sat behind me. Auguste didn't seem to notice – or that's what I thought, for all I could see of his face was a menacing wolf-head. He stood, and held his hand out to me. "Finish your bread, 'cause I want to show you how I live in Rouen."

I smiled and finished my bread in a few quick bites, then shoved the other bun down my tunic. Grabbing my scythe in the other hand, I took Auguste's and we made our way down the alley.


	3. Flight

**CHAPTER THREE: Flight**

Auguste and I shared many adventures together. He taught me French, and I was very surprised to know that he was a very educated boy. With his father being a hunter I hadn't expected much from him, but one day as he was sharing to me more about his family I made a shocking discovery: before he went bankrupt, Auguste's father was a professor at a university in Rouen! I dared not to ask him the event that turned his father into a criminal…

Auguste showed me his hideout in which he hid all of the items he stole from shops and nobles' houses. His home was an underground room below a local tavern dimly lighted by small oil lanterns. I found it quite clever – as we approached the backside of the tavern, Auguste pushed a few barrels and crates out of the way to reveal a small, wooden sliding door. We entered, and I smiled on how cozy his chamber was. It was only wide enough to allow Auguste to lie down, and I knew if I were to stay here with him I would have to sleep in a fetal position. It didn't bother me, though, as Auguste was my only friend and I was to be loyal to him.

He presented me all of these fascinating books about mythology, poetry, and alchemy. Of course there were many more, but those were some of my favorites. We read aloud our favorite poems every night to one another, and compare them. In the end we would be giggling till we keeled over and our guts wailed in pain.

On one of our many jovial times watching the nobles stroll the streets while people almost dumped their chamber pots on them, Auguste stopped and began to stare at me awkwardly.

"Is something wrong?" I said in between laughs.

"Yes…well, no… erm, I was just thinking…"

"Yes?" I chuckled at his tone.

"It's just that…you're basically wearing rags."

I almost snorted and retorted back to him, "well look at yourself," but before the words could slip out of my curled mouth I stood for a moment and scanned Auguste. He was actually…decent, for a homeless orphan. He had a nice linen shirt and soft cotton breeches. When I looked at myself I was truly horrifying – I had a deteriorating and thrashed tunic made from animal skin that was tied at my waste with a pathetic cloth belt. He had a point.

"Well…what can we do about that? This is the only thing I have and trying to steal fabrics would be like suicide," I puffed out my nostrils.

Auguste smirked. "You know, I don't steal _all _of my essential items." He grabbed my hand and led me down a street to a small building that said, "Mademoiselle Amelie Bonnefoy; the seamstress." I glanced at him.

"Are you sure–"

"Yes! I'm positive," he chuckled, "I know Amelie very well. She's like a mother to me."

I swallowed and Auguste led me into the store. I did not know why I was so uneasy about this, but I went with what he said. After all, Auguste was my dear friend and he'd never let me down before. When we entered, small bells from the door handle jingled softly and a young woman at a spinning wheel looked up to see who had arrived.

She was a fair maiden; with pale skin and blonde hair. I marveled at her shining gray eyes, and tried to restrain myself from staring too awkwardly.

"Oh yes," said Amelie, smiling slyly, "'tis the brave hunter's son. I was expecting you to arrive sometime soon."

"What made you anticipate that?" For some reason I could picture Auguste's cheeks flushing pink under his mask.

Amelie shrugged. "Oh – nothing really. I had just woven some fine rolls of lavender colored silk, and I thought it'd make a nice shawl for you."

I couldn't help but snicker; Amelie's teasing was very amusing to me. I saw Auguste's fists tighten with embarrassment.

"Ahem. Anyways, I uh… _did _actually come here for some rolls of fabric."

The seamstress began to push her foot rhythmically on the pedal of the spinning wheel and almost interrupted Auguste as she asked, "Who's your friend?"

"Oh yeah," Auguste exclaimed, and just by how he spoke I knew he was beaming from ear to ear. "This is my friend Marienbard. She's from Ireland and her dad is part of that whole mercenary issue."

I knew he felt my reticent at the topic by how my hand twitched, brushing barely up against him, and he gently wrapped a soft, warm hand around mine. I tried not to help it, but the feeling of the blood rushing to my cheeks gave it away against my dead-pale skin. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice – or so I thought.

"Ah…yes," her voice was not as sorrowful as it was comforting. Amelie's mischievous grin had softened into a sympathetic smile; the way her long eyelashes just barely lingered over her smoke-colored eyes made me feel at ease, and as if I was in the presence of an angel. The way she worked the spinning wheel made it look as though she were plucking the strings of a harp. Auguste stepped over to Amelie.

He muttered, "I was hoping to show her my friendship by giving her some new clothes." It was audible enough for me to hear, so I blushed.

Amelie's shoulders shrugged in a laughing manor, and her foot stopped on the pedal. She rose from her chair and motioned her arm to me, giving off the most cordial smile I had ever seen. With such a warm welcome I could not refuse, so I almost immediately stepped over; yet with a cool demeanor, as I did not want to show too much excitement in getting new clothes or having Amelie's attention focused on me. She led me to a room that was covered by curtains.

"M-make sure it's silk," Auguste called before Amelie let the curtains fall. She smirked.

"Yes, Auguste. Browse as you please while I prepare Marienbard." I loved the way she had pronounced my name. Such elegance.

Amelie enclosed us into a circular room, where fabrics of every kind laid about aimlessly – silk, cotton; those were the only ones I recognized since I was so overwhelmed. She motioned to a small platform in the middle of the room for me to stand on, and Amelie asked for me to take off my tunic.

My cheeks blushed profusely at my indecency, but luckily as I was undressing Amelie had her back turned, going through different colors of silk, and stopped at the rolls of white.

"I think this would be an excellent tone on you," she said while rolling out the fabric and wrapping it around my waist and torso, "your body shape is wonderful."

My mouth almost fell agape at her comment, but I stopped myself and peered down my chest, noticing she was exactly correct; two round lumps had appeared against the silk that almost made me shriek with confidence – I even looked more a lady than Catriona did!

Amelie noticed the excitement in my eyes, and chuckled. "White is the color of reverence; esteem, honor, also one of innocence, birth, peace, and the good. I thought it suited you… but then again it is also one for cold and winter. I saw you more of a spring…" She began to walk towards the other silk colors.

"N-no," I exclaimed. "Winter is something that really…defines me. I… I love the cold. It was my only friend before I met Auguste…" For some reason I wished those words hadn't come out of my mouth, yet she seemed to understand.

"I see. In that case…" Amelie began to file through the articles of cloth. "Ivory for unification? No… perhaps yellow, for hope. Then again…yellow is also the one for betrayal and deceit. Hm…Lavender? Turquoise?" She bit her lip, and then snapped. "Ah! Of course. Tsk. How did I skip this?"

The seamstress surprised me by presenting a lovely, bright shade of orange. She stroked the silk lovingly, as a warrior would to her dear sword. "Orange; energy, balance, enthusiasm, warmth…it is such a vibrant and flamboyant color; easily demanding attention."

I thought it was perfect.

Amelie began to work her magic – and in what only seemed a small amount of mere minutes, she was finished. Studying my appearance in her looking glass, I was ultimately pleased; comfortable white, silk breaches had my legs and stopped above my stomach, starting the hem-line of another white silk blouse, which at the sleeves were ruffled. Amelie had tied orange ribbons at the ends of my breaches, and suddenly handed me a blue bodice. I stared at her.

"Blue symbolizes tranquility, trust, and truth. I thought it would suit this outfit very well," she stated. I beamed at her.

"Oh… and there was _one _more thing I wanted to do…" Amelie ran a hand through a strand of my long, emerald hair.

Auguste's mouth fell aghast – that I could tell even from behind his mask – when I stepped out of Amelie's workroom in my new attire. "Marienbard, you look stunning! And your hair; a _French braid_!" He laughed. "Now you're a citizen of Rouen!" I blushed and fiddled with my braid that sat on my shoulder.

"Thanks," was all I could manage to utter out. I was more stunned by my appearance than anyone else; and my self-esteem had shot off like a Roman Candle. Amelie was smiling, but out of the corner of my eye I saw it fade the longer she stared at us. She blinked and stepped over to her desk to set her scissors down, then grasped our attention with a serious, "I need to speak with you" gaze.

"Auguste... Marienbard… How old are you two now?"

He answered seventeen and I said fifteen. Amelie put a hand over her mouth and shook her head in a grim way. "I can't take it. I just can't take it – I want you two to stay with me, for now on. At least at night… I don't know. I just… it feels like I have to be a mother to you."

Auguste snorted. "A mother who is only a mere…mayhap…ten years older than us? Well, she wasn't a maiden for long, heh." I snickered at his note, yet Amelie's expression made no change.

"You aren't a jester, Auguste," came her sharp reply, and our smirks instantly faded along with our sense of humor at the moment. "You are an orphan. You both are…and you shouldn't be taking care of yourselves."

I swallowed, having a large yet strange urge to blurt out that I wasn't an orphan and I was going to find my father in Germany. But what was the point in that? We would have nothing to go back to once reunited, as my mother and my sisters were frail – yet Amelie had been right on her philosophy somewhere. At the moment I was in presence of no parent, and no matter which way I turned – to Ireland or to Germany – I was well out of reach, therefore had no protection; no parental protection, at that. I felt very safe with Auguste by my side. Either way, I definitely had the sympathy for an orphan.

"Please, I just don't want to risk you two being hurt." At her plead I thought myself that I didn't want _her_ being hurt if we refused, so I nodded my head. Not even waiting for Auguste's approval, Amelie threw herself onto us and wrapped her arms around our necks.

"Oh, thank you. I feel as though all the stress has been lifted off my shoulders."

"You…really care about is that much?" Auguste dared to ask the question, though it was in no term of sarcasm whatsoever.

"Absolutely."

The word was but a gasp of breath on Amelie's pink lips, but it was enough to make a tear crawl out of my eye and my thoughts to final focus in that I was now, truly and utterly, at home.


	4. Mid Air

**CHAPTER FOUR: Mid-Air**

"Where are you two off to now?"

It was a question that was often poked at Auguste and me from Amelie's curled lips as we would hastily clamper down the stairs and out the seamstress's door. We both knew she was well aware of the theft we conducted, yet Amelie didn't seem to mind our free-spirits. Perhaps that's what I liked about her so much.

When Auguste and I weren't silently pillaging through shops and stalls, I assisted Amelie with her needlework. I became very skilled at it, though the first few weeks I had pricked my fingers with the needle so many times that they bled. I would go red in the face, embarrassed that Amelie might bark at me for spilling crimson on her embroidery, but she only laughed and said I would soon get better at it. Sure enough, I did.

If not stealing or sewing, I practiced my combat with my scythe. I hadn't let the tool lie dormant for a mere minute, for I had to master specific skills for the battlefield. I wasn't going to get my father back from the cavalry by threatening the generals with yarn and the fingers of a pickpocket.

I realized that Auguste too had a weapon to defend himself with. When one afternoon in his underground room by the tavern, he showed it to me. I had never noticed the cloth covered object in the back of his room before.

It was a magnificent work of art; the blade thick and the hilt delicately decorated. It was hardly the size of a zweihander, for it was a more reasonable size; and nothing compared to the height of my scythe. The more I mused at his sword, the more it looked to be rather oriental looking.

"This was my father's," he explained, stroking the blade. "He asked to be buried with it, but the marshals took no authority to his words, curse them." I noticed his fist tightening in anger, so I smiled and squeezed his wrist gently to calm him down.

"The scythe is my father's too, yet he only used it for harvesting." I snorted as my words sounded silly.

Auguste glanced at me. "Say…when were you going to leave Rouen to find your father, again?"

I hesitated – I had completely forgotten!

"I… didn't. Yet, I suppose…perhaps…sometime this week?" I saw him nod slowly.

"I see. Marienbard, if you wouldn't mind I think I might like to come with you." His proclamation took me by surprise. Why would he want to leave the excitement of Rouen just to help me with my personal goals?

"R-really? A-ah, I mean, with all due respect…may I ask why, exactly?"

Auguste took a deep breath before speaking.

"Marienbard, before I met you my life was a fragment away from crumbling into ruins. With my family all deceased, I had nothing to look forward to. Just lingering helplessly in the alleys was a part of my everyday routine, and some days I had not the energy or contempt to feed myself. But then, as I thought there was truly nothing left in the world for me, Fate grabbed you with its hand and settled you down right before my eyes. Since then, I've redeemed myself and have found meaning in the world. Would you happen to know what that meaning is?"

My throat had gone dry, so I shook my head.

"It was to stay with you; to stand by your side forever. It feels as though when you aren't around, that the world is just a blank slate, and I have nothing to write – yet when I am with you, you fill me with inspiration. Do you…understand what I'm telling you…?"

My hands were trembling, and surely my cheeks had gone three shades of pink. I blinked and nodded my head, a shaky smile beginning to curl my lips. I nodded until I went dizzy and tears formed in my eyes.

"Yes, Auguste. Yes, yes, yes, _yes. _I completely understand, and I want to be with you too. Nothing makes me feel as lively as you do. My words are briefer than yours, but I hope you take the full meaning of them."

Not wanting to get too caught up in the emotions, Auguste gave me a small hug in acknowledgement and understanding. "Good. I'm grateful that you'll include me, now let's get going to Amelie's – it will soon set and dark will fall."

As we were heading to the seamstress' shop, a commotion seemed to echo through the alleyways. I peered around, trying to figure out where exactly the noise was erupting, but the labyrinth-esque ways of the alley let every sound snake in through different columns.

"Do you have a notion where–" before I could finish my question, Auguste abruptly pushed me against the wall, a hand over my mouth, and stood absolutely still. My heart thumped inside of my head, not understanding what in the dickens was going on, until I saw a blonde gentleman with a thin sword in his left hand dash by. Soon after, a fleet of soldiers passed, hot on his trail; only when they turned a corner did Auguste release his tense stance.

"That must have been the Sorel man," he spoke suddenly, his gaze locked in the direction the soldiers had ran.

"Pardon?" I had not the foggiest idea of what he meant.

He shook his head and snorted. "Nothing. Just current events – some noble issue."

I nodded. "Ah."

When we entered Amelie's shop, she leapt at our arrival and let out a gasp of relief. She hugged us both tightly, as if we had both just come back from a decade's war.

"Oh thank goodness you two are alright," she said breathlessly.

"Uh… what is troubling you so?" came Auguste's awkward tone.

Amelie immediately took her grip away from us, though not offended by Auguste's words, and placed her hands on her hips, a disappointed look crawling on her face.

"Oh – it's those soldiers! Chasing the Sorel down like maniacs…for all the citizens' care we just need him out of the country. Everything else the soldiers want to do is paranoia! It's insane…" she grumbled the rest of her rant and stepped back over to her spinning wheel.

"Well, he made a critical mistake on his part, Amelie…" the way he spoke made it seem as though he wasn't sure if the words had come out right.

She merely sighed and shook her head. "No matter. It's not my deal and if it was, I am only a maiden and anything I'd say would make no difference," Amelie glanced up at us. "Just be careful until they have the Sorel man. The soldiers ought to be in every nook in this town, so keep in mind that there might be eyes watching you, though you can't see them."

Her cryptic statement sent chills up my arms, yet I nodded. "Yes, Amelie."

Auguste and I headed upstairs, deciding not to cause mischief in Rouen after what she had said. We discovered an old dusty chest in the corner of the second floor that was full of books on mythology, history, and philosophy. Not hesitating for a moment, we seized them.

I had engrossed myself in the knowledge of Aristotle, and when I peered over the edge of my book saw Auguste entranced in a novel about Roman warfare. I suppose I had been gazing at him too long, for he snorted and said, "Aristotle bores you, non?"

I snapped back to reality. "Hm? Oh – no, I was just…erm, dazed off is all." I feigned an overwhelmed look. "The mind of Aristotle is fascinating! So much knowledge; I am unsure if my head is capable of holding it or not."

He snorted, and was about to say something when we heard a bunch of men come through Amelie's workshop door. I started up to see who had arrived, but Auguste caught me by my arm and pulled me back, pressing a finger up to his mask at the spot where his lips ought to be. I took in a very silent breath and we listened intently, hidden away from whoever had entered.

"Good sirs, may I help you?" Though their entrance had been made brusque, Amelie still spoke with her cordial voice.

"We are in no need of your worthless cotton," one of the men spat, and I looked over to Auguste with a confused expression on my face.

_Soldiers?_ I mouthed. He nodded and pointed, so we could get our attention back.

"Enlighten me," came Amelie's voice, smooth as butter.

"We've been informed that you are, in consideration, housing the wanted Raphael Sorel; son of his nobility Lord Sorel."

Amelie said nothing for a moment. "…I must ask why this has come to your…'consideration', sirs."

"Independent studies have spotted a young man with a sword fleeing into this location every night. Is it not true that the son of Lord Sorel wields an English rapier?"

"…No, sir. But I must say that your conviction is wrong; the young master of the Sorel family resides not here." The longer Amelie spoke, the more it sounded like she was on the verge of tears. "So please, take my words for it and leave my workshop be."

The soldier scoffed. "Words of a maiden are meaningless."

I heard a metallic click, and my heart was instantly in my throat. Even I could hear the quickening of Amelie's desperate breath, as well as Auguste's and mine.

"…s-sir, please–"

A gunshot reverberated through the building, and a thump on the wood floors echoed.

I forgot to breathe; forgot to think, forgot all sense of things. The sound of the soldiers suddenly scrambling around shouting orders like "get the seamstress out of the road" and "check the upstairs, if he's not up there then burn this building down" meant nothing to me. I still wasn't intact when Auguste pulled my trembling arm and lifted me to my numb feet, whispering "Marienbard, we must leave now – through the window!"

I only snapped back when Auguste handed me my scythe, and I had no choice but to obey. Instead of lifting the window open, Auguste held me tight and ran against it – glass shattering everywhere like a shower of crystal – figuring himself so his back hit the ground first. I let out a muffled scream as we were falling; feeling like a bird the first time its mother pushes it out of the nest – I had not feathers nor the instinct or skill to fly, so instead we landed on the ground with a horrible _thud! _

Even not taking the full pain of it, the air was knocked out of my chest, and I rolled out of Auguste's arms on the impact. He didn't seem able to breathe, and surely he had broken something, but still got up with an agonizing grunt and ran with me. I marveled at his courage from that point on.

"The tavern!" he ordered through gritted teeth. In seconds, though it seemed like an eternity, the soldiers had discovered us by the shattering of glass and inevitably began their pursuit. I had no idea how I was able to run, for my legs felt as though they had been lopped off, but with Auguste here I had to keep going; for my father; for Amelie – for myself. This was the point of no return, as I had now decided that I was not going to back down on my word. Auguste had truly inspired me on that.

The two of us stumbled many times, and our stamina was slipping away like the wind, and I knew not how much longer I was going to last. Miraculously, when we turned a corner I saw the barrels which hid our hideout. Not even bothering to push them aside, Auguste gave the crate a mighty slash of his sword and they crashed open; ale and wine spurting everywhere. Ignoring it, he pushed the door open with shaky hands and we dove into the room, hearing the voices of the soldiers grow louder. They still seemed to be a ways away, but I knew if any second was wasted they would be that much closer to us. Time was desperate.

As soon as Auguste shut the door, I began to yell at him aimlessly for some reason. "_Here?_ Of all places _here?_ They'll find us right as they turn the corner, Auguste! You wretched, foul, loathsome _creature! _You're _just_ going to get us _killed!_ _Imbecile!" _I felt tears roll silently down my cheeks – perhaps I was realizing the monster that I was turning into; yelling at my best friend, only passing on the torment that Catriona once caused upon me. Guilt swept over me like a strong breeze. "Auguste…I–"

I hadn't noticed what he was doing until I saw him move all of his books that once sat in a pile against his wall to reveal a narrow crevasse leading in what seemed to be a tunnel. He turned to me, seemingly not affected by my harsh words and motioned forward. "Come, we don't have much time left."

I obeyed, and crawled into the tunnel. I made my way back, and soon Auguste had begun to follow, my reassurance now boosted that he wouldn't abandon me. After a few good minutes of moving aimlessly in the narrow tunnel, we finally stopped to gather ourselves. The two of us waited ever so silently, listening to the soldiers overhead very faintly barking orders at each other then skittering away to a new place to snoop. I let out the breath that I didn't realize I was holding, and glanced at Auguste – he was holding his shoulder and breathing unsteadily. Tears immediately stung my eyes.

"Au-Auguste… I am so sorry… for everything. I-I've been such a burden to you lately, and I've been acting so cursedly immature." My words barely became audible, but I tried to swallow my sobs. "Forgive me for yelling at you back there, I was just afraid a-and I just don't know what to do, I've n-never been in a situation li–"

He caught me by complete surprise when I saw him put a hand to his mask – for a second I thought he would reveal his face to me, yet he only lifted it to where his mouth was visible – and the next moment his lips were on mine; his breath, his scent, his touch – I could grasp it all in that moment, yet I was too in shock. My hand that was holding my scythe tightened until my knuckles were white, and pleasing goose bumps erupted everywhere possible on my body. My breath slowed, and he pulled away before I could just keel over from the enjoyment.

"Please, don't apologize." When he spoke, his mask fell back down on its own. "You've never been a burden, and don't think you ever will be." He swiped his knuckle gently across my cheek where a tear had fallen. I nodded.

"B-but…your shoulder…" My voice was only a whisper.

"I'll be fine. It's you that matters," He put a hand on my back and was instantly by my side. "Now come on; it's not safe in Rouen anymore. We need to leave – far away from here – and then rest. We'll search for your father the next day."

We began making our way down the tunnel.

"Saint-Etienne?" I suggested for our destination, sounding reasonable, yet he shook his head.

"Farther. We need to get out of the country – like Amelie said."

Amelie… Her name was like the own gunshot that struck her down in my chest. I reluctantly swallowed down my sorrow, saying that I needed to leave Rouen behind. It was all past me now.

"How far back do these tunnels go?" I said, wanting to change the subject.

"Just up to the outskirts of Rouen," he explained. "It'll be a few minutes."

I let out a large breath when we crawled out of the confined space, ending up in a small hole that was next to the gates of Rouen. It had taken us a long time to work our way through, and I was of course glad to be out. I pried Auguste out of the small breach, and luckily no one saw our suspicious behavior.

"We've no time to waste," I said, taking on Auguste's words. With a loyal nod, we dashed away from the city, and reached far into the country fields – I felt my process growing and my goal becoming closer.

_Father, we are close… _I thought, picturing Feidhelm O'Flaherty's smiling face.


	5. Soaring

**CHAPTER FIVE: Soaring**

_French Country Fields_

I fell to the ground with a thud. "Ouch!"

Rubbing my bruised, violet feet, I laid on the dirt helplessly. Auguste gave me a pitiful look.

"I'm sorry, Marienbard. I promise – we're close to a resting place." I tried to pull myself up, but my feet seemed to have their own mind and would not let me. Every time I pressed weight down on them, fireworks of stinging pain shot up my legs. I let out an inaudible squeak.

Letting out a small laugh, Auguste grabbed my waist and hoisted me up several feet. Appalled by the sudden action, I involuntarily struggled a bit. "A-Auguste? What are you–?" When he lowered me, my back and knees rested against his forearms, carrying me without a hassle. I went pink and shyly muttered my thanks.

After walking a fairly large amount of miles, Auguste set me down and peered out at the horizon. "It looks like a barn," he observed, as he stared at the silhouette of a small building many yards in front of us. Grinning, He swept me up and now began carrying me on his back, running in an excited, fast pace. I knew he anticipated something about this place, and I thought it best not to doubt him. In a surprisingly short amount of time, we reached the structure.

I climbed off his back, my feet feeling much better indeed, and helped him push the door open – and what I saw almost made me leap with excitement.

"A horse stable!" I exclaimed, beaming ear to ear. "Auguste, you're brilliant!" I would've turned and kissed him on the cheek, save his wolf mask that covered his face. We strolled down the rows, glancing at all of the horses.

"Hm… I've never ridden a horse before," I said, taking interest in a white stallion.

"Neither have I." Auguste walked out of the stable for a moment and glanced upward at the sky. "It's noon. We should probably hurry this up – I want to be free of here quickly."

I nodded, and pointed at another stallion, only this one was black. "I think you should get that one."

Immediately Auguste strode over and put a saddle on the horse, then he assisted me with mine. He gave me a boost onto the back of white animal, and then he began to turn away. "I'm going to check if there are any supplies lying about. Stay here and I'll be right back."

Before he could start looking, a high-pitched voice rang out;

"Hey!"

At first I thought it was the owner, but her next words caught me by surprise, "I was here first!"

A girl about our age appeared in front of us with short, ruby red hair and in authentic brigand attire; a bandana sitting atop her head, a linen shirt made short by tying a knot with the ends of the fabric, and wool trousers. She welt a dagger. I grabbed my scythe instinctively.

"We're weary travelers," Auguste spoke coolly. "Please pardon us."

"Ooh – city urchins," the female-brigand taunted. "Your fancy words don't scare the likes of _me_."

Unperturbed, Auguste snorted and spat back, "The only thing that makes me flinch about you is that banshee screech of a voice you have."

I disembarked my horse, sanding alert, anticipating something bad to happen. The girl's cheeks grew three shades of pink. Her fists clenched up until her knuckles were white.

"Don't…_insult me_!"

She came at Auguste with her knife – which she now had two of, pulling another dagger out of the scabbard that was hidden behind her back. He easily blocked the attack with the thickness of his blade. She stumbled back, and before she could charge again, I held my scythe in front of me, and the sharp, curved edge was inches away from her neck. The brigand froze in her tracks.

Auguste liked my movement, and took its advantage. He stepped a few places in front of the girl, and a whimper erupted from her throat.

"We don't want to cause harm," he said in a piteous tone. "But we could use the company. We're heading to Germany, if you are interested." He nodded at me and I lowered my scythe casually. Auguste mounted his horse, and I did mine, not taking my gaze off the girl. Auguste led his horse out of the stable and began heading out, not paying any heed to the brigand.

"I… I have the supplies you were looking for," she said loudly, trying to get Auguste's attention, and indeed he turned. She pulled a satchel out that she had been hiding. The girl tossed the bag up to him. "Merci," he said absentmindedly.

"I wanna go to Germany with you guys," the girl said again, then sneered. "You could sure use my help." She strode over to a horse.

"Really? Is that so?" Auguste spoke with sarcasm only I could detect, and I smirked at him. The thief quickly got on a horse and followed before we could change our minds. In only a minute, we were a ways from the stable.

"The name's Jacqueline, by the by."

He nodded. "Mine's Auguste, and that's Marienbard."

Jacqueline snorted. "'Marienbard'? Pfft. Where're _you _from?"

"Ireland," I replied with pink cheeks and a glare. "What about _you?"_

"Orléans," Jacqueline casually stretched and grinned. She glanced up at Auguste. "And you, Mr. Wolfman?"

He didn't find her amusing either. "Rouen."

If Jacqueline were a feline, her ears would have been as straight as a lance. She leaned forward in her saddle. "Ooh…with all that Sorel trouble? Exciting!"

"It's actually why we're out here," Auguste said, then added, "…partially."

"Yeah, I was gonna ask that. Why _are _you guys out here anyway?"

"My father was sent to Germany by force to serve arms in their cavalry." I answered for Auguste.

Jacqueline sat back down in her saddle in a dismal way. "That's the same this that happened with my troupe."

For some reason I was eager to hear her story; so did Auguste, who slowed a bit and turned to face her. "Your 'troupe'?" he pondered.

"Yeah. I traveled with a group of brigands – I thought you could tell… I was the only girl in our band of thieves, but they were all like brothers to me. Well anyway, we were just a few miles from Orléans when they snatched 'em up." She exhaled through her nostrils deeply. "I sure do miss them."

I suddenly had much more respect for Jacqueline. She was just like Auguste and I – looking for our loved ones. Jacqueline cleared her throat.

"So, I get why Marienbard's here… what's _your_ alibi?" She poked at Auguste.

"I'm giving her the company," he began, "and I hope to find…something in Germany."

I tilted my head. "Like what?"

"I'm not sure. Destiny, maybe? Passion? I just anticipate that when we arrive, we'll not only find your father and your troupe, but I'll also find my… 'place' in this world."

"Do you have a notion of what you want to do?" Jacqueline asked the question before I could.

"Maybe I'll be an apprentice."

I would have never thought those words would come out of his mouth. I had pictured Auguste as a man who would just go into lunacy if he had to take orders or lessons from someone. I was so shocked that I couldn't tell if his truth was hidden behind sarcasm or not. I decided not to fret about it too much.

Auguste had a growing superstition about the soldiers. Every time we stopped to rest, which was rarely, at every noise or rustle he would flinch and tell us to mount. While it only annoyed Jacqueline, I had grown concerned. Was he going mad? For some reason I decided to discuss this with Jacqueline.

"I don't know him too well, so I can't really tell ya spot on," she muttered so we could keep our conversation quiet.

"Well do you at least know about his condition?" I whispered. "Like mentally?"

She gave me a puzzled look.

"Is it…insanity?" The last word was hard to utter out. Much to my relief, Jacqueline only chuckled.

"Nah. He's just paranoid."

"Paranoid?" I thought I had heard Amelie say the word, but I was still unsure.

"You know, like freakishly worried. For instance, a bloke in my troupe was paranoid because once when we were traveling through the woods a dark beast came an' attacked 'im. Gosh, he never stepped a foot in a forest again an' he'd go pale every time he saw a lapdog or somethin', heh."

"So you mean to say Auguste is paranoid of the soldiers that chased us out of Rouen?"

"I guess. He probably thinks that they're still hunting him down or somethin' like that." She laughed.

Eventually Auguste's paranoia fell, and he could feel back at ease again. Jacqueline usually poked fun at him for his brief state, and he only scoffed. I found their bickering quite amusing, yet soon I only became envious and wistful. It was an emotion I could not explain, and one night as I was roused while the others slept I had even dared to call it jealously; every time he brushed off Jacqueline's playful hugging with a laugh it made my eyes moist. I knew it wasn't Jacqueline's teasing and easy-going personality that I coveted…

So why had I become so protective of Auguste? I had known him for countless months – years, mayhap – so was not it time to "share"? And alas, as I watched the two tease each other on a separate day I realized why Auguste was so precious to me:

I was in love with him.


	6. Wing Damage

**CHAPTER SIX: Wing Damage**

_German Battlefields_

We had arrived in Germany earlier than I had expected, even with being on foot a small portion of the way due to a trinity of outlaws shooting our steeds. If not for my hurry to get to our destination, Auguste and Jacqueline would have darted off to punish the criminals for what they had done. My persistency is much larger than theirs.

The battlefields are a gruesome place. Never before in my life had I seen men on their knees, weeping, _begging, _for mercy. Their murderous screams kept echoing in my head, and I was so distracted by this that I could not even look at what the German army was targeting at or fighting against, though it did seem like the entire German force was opposed to one thing in particular, but such a thought is ridiculous.

The three of us decided to start searching for my father in the main stronghold, which was a large castle-looking structure with reinforcements lined together in the corridor of the entrance, ready to defend their country. As I scanned the ready soldiers I could not find Feidhelm's face, and I began to panic, yet I kept reassuring myself. _He's out fighting… he's out fighting…_ I thought, but still the cold sweat of doubt slid down my neck. I shook it off.

We then turned to glance in the medical room, and if I had been mortified by the war itself then this was far worse. I couldn't bear to see the sight of men being shrouded behind a white curtain, doctors surrounding them while they were being bled. They screamed and struggled in protest, as the pearl sheet grew crimson. I grimaced and turned my head away from the infirmary, shivering. I urged to move on through the stronghold.

"Marienbard, he's not here," Auguste whispered, but I shook my head until my vision grew blurry and clenched my fists tightly. I could not believe any doubts.

"No! He's here. We just aren't looking hard enough! I can _feel _it!" On my last word my voice wavered and cracked, as if even my feelings knew that our efforts were futile. Auguste only sighed, shrugging slightly, and then took his gaze to the window that was portrayed in the corridor. He strode over to it, looking at the war with an iron gaze.

"This… this is…" he muttered after long moments of silence.

"Insanity?" Jacqueline surprisingly chimed in, her expression grim; mixed with a look that she had experienced the dreadful art of war, or, even worse, was holding a dark, horrific secret. I swallowed and fidgeted at her unnerving air.

"Y-yes," he replied, speaking as though his mouth was agape. "B-but I was going to say something more like horrid."

She snorted, and such an action gave me chills, as even I knew that Jacqueline would not be joking at this time, so for its purpose I was grotesquely curious. "Horrid – ha. That's just a small aspect to describe it. To be honest, 'horrid' doesn't really complete the title that well."

"Jacqueline, what on earth are you talking about?"

"It's not war you see out there," she almost interrupted Auguste and her smirk faded so she only bore a scowl. "It's _massacre._" She paused, recollecting her anger. "The… Azure Knight—"

Before she could finish, Jacqueline gasped, her eyes falling on the large window that was next to us and uttered out to run. She was not in time though, for the window exploded into a monsoon of razor sharp glass. The impact threw all three of us off our feet, and flying against the opposite wall. I felt dizzy, ringing erupted in my ears, and my body ached from when it hit the ground so hard – yet the three of us stumbled up, urging to the next corridor, since we were now vulnerable to the harmful war. In the midst of all the calamity and chaos of escape, I dropped my scythe, and instantly my world froze – as I did in my tracks. I let out some kind of scream and dove back for it; I didn't even bother to pay heed to Auguste yelling at me.

As my hand curled over the weapon's long handle my lips formed into a smile, yet before I could let out even a breath of accomplishment the floor below me collapsed. I immediately heard Auguste and Jacqueline skitter after me, they falling in also. If I had known better, I would have thought that I had fallen into the very depths of Hell, yet when I felt the ground bellow me I was reassured. Auguste and Jacqueline fell in a short time after, causing dirt to sprinkle about.

The hole in which we fell in seemed to be a tunnel, and it was spaced enough so that all three of us could stand. Along the sides of the passageway were torches, and keeping up the structure of it the walls were long wooden beams. "What is this, some kind of mine?" Auguste grunted, his voice hoarse.

"It reminds me of your hideout," I said, my gaze still fixed on the tunnel. "Only larger and a bit more…beckoning."

"Well, we ought to investigate, no?" Jacqueline reached for a torch that was sitting in a holder against the wall, and I gasped as harmless specs of dirt fell from the ceiling.

"Be careful…!" I whispered.

"Stop being such a worry-wart," Jacqueline held the flambeau out in front of her and motioned for us to follow. I shot an unsure glance to Auguste, and he just shrugged and shook his head, as if to say "there's no stopping her."

Before we could move even a few feet, I heard at the end of the passage shuffling, and a sound like a stone dropping echoed. Auguste thrust his arm out for us to all freeze, and we heard the movement again. Jacqueline began to raise her torch, but I grabbed her arm and shook my head, forcing her to ease it down. "Who goes?" A voice of a man called, and I stumbled in my thoughts. The voice sounded vaguely familiar…

"That voice… I know that voice…" I muttered, and Auguste put a finger to his lips. I didn't pay attention to him, as my thoughts were scattered around on who that man was.

"State your name!" The gears in my head were beginning to turn, and as he was about to bellow out once more, it came to me.

"Edwyn!" I yelled, and Auguste hissed for me to be quiet.

"B-bless my soul. Aislin, is that you?" Edwyn replied his voice warmer and how I remembered it to be.

"No, it is her daughter, Marienbard." I laughed, a tear erupting in the corner of my eye. Edwyn was my father's best mate, and his co-worker. When Feidhelm would harvest our barley, he would give it to Edwyn, and from there it would be shipped to other countries. My family didn't get to see him much since he was always travelling. I believe the last time we had spoken was a year before my father was sent away – and how we had met here; thank the heavens.

"Marienbard… my dear, come, come; you must get away from there – it is better over here."

I did as he said without hesitation or complaint, beaming from ear to ear. I noticed that Auguste and Jacqueline were following me rather cautiously, and I threw a jokingly glance at them. When I turned I faced Edwyn, and he had changed drastically from the last time I had seen him; his once jet black hair had a few streaks of silver in it, and was tied back recklessly – it looked like he hadn't shaved in weeks. Around his forehead were bandages splashed with crimson, along with his mercenary uniform that had been before Prussian blue. He held his side where a blade had stabbed him.

My smile faded – he looked so defeated. "You look…awful," I uttered.

"And yet you look beautiful." He put a hand to my face; his finger barely brushing against were a shard of glass had cut me. I was sure that I wasn't really all that stunning, for the clothes Amelie had made me were evidently worn and dirty – but I still smiled. Edwyn glanced over me. "You have picked up some friends along the way?"

I turned. "Yes, this is Auguste and Jacqueline. I met them in France."

He nodded to them, waved his hand for us to follow, and we began to head down the tunnel. "Watch your head, some of these beams have given up; like the rest of us."

_Like the rest of us? _I thought, yet when we entered a room at the end of the passage my pondering was answered. There were five men; a man with butterscotch-colored hair was sitting on a barrel with his leg propped up against another crate, a burly man sat on another box against a wall, his arms folded across his chest, a third man with a thin mustache was sitting in a wooden chair, his arm cradled in a bandage that was wrapped around his neck, the fourth man lying in the back of the room, his eyes closed, and I could not tell if he was breathing or not, and the last man was curled up and reciting the rosary.

The man with the leg injury frowned. "That's what the racket was?" He cursed. "Tch. I was hoping it was a rodent, then maybe we wouldn't be filling on these bloody grains anymore."

"Calm yourself, Tryg." Edwyn sighed. "This is Feidhelm's daughter, and her friends."

Tryg suddenly grew solemn and nodded his head, commencing to mutter in a different language that I guessed was Czech.

"What is this place?" Jacqueline blurted out in her high-pitched voice.

"Hell," Tryg muttered, snorting. Edwyn spoke over him.

"It's our base. We've forfeited from the war." He sighed. "It was just too brutal…"

"Well then why don't you just go to the medical room?" I could tell Jacqueline was becoming irritated by how quickly she retorted to his statement. "Maybe this wouldn't be so bad if you all just stuck it up and marched to the infirmary!"

The burly man's eye twitched, but the man with the arm cast spoke up in a British accent. "The doctors don't pay heed to the foreign mercenaries. All they want to focus on are the main German ones. We're just here so we can stall the enemy while they are recovering."

"We would have been left to _die_ if we hadn't gotten up ourselves!" Tryg shouted, his cheeks growing pink. "You do not know what it is like, to be lying dormant on the battlefield, begging for help, as your fellow allies save the German next to you instead." The burly man coughed.

"Do not make an uproar," the man muttered with a strong Scandinavian accent. Tryg took a small inhale then closed his eyes.

"Anyway, Marienbard… why are you here?" Edwyn said, putting a hand on my shoulder then moving some crates for the three of us to sit down on them. My body relaxed as I sat down.

"I came to find my father," I replied, my voice unwavering. "I'm going to bring him back to Ireland."

"Are Catriona and Norienne here as well?" He asked again, his face growing grim.

"No." I said, feeling a bit of guilt.

"You left them in Ireland?"

"Y-Yes…" I took a deep breath. "Catriona was tormenting me. I couldn't take it."

Edwyn nodded. "Marienbard, I need you to tell me from the beginning – everything that has happened, from when Feidhelm left."

I closed my eyes. It was time to let it all out; to confess to Edwyn, to sum it up for Auguste… I opened my eyes, and began my story.

"When my father was preparing to leave, everyone was in tears; my mother, Norienne, Catriona… except for me. Yes, I did grieve for him, but not a single tear was shed. After a few moments of their melodrama, my mother and my sisters went inside, leaving me alone with my father. He tried to give me strong words of optimism, but I kept asking him why he had to go. It pained me as he wouldn't answer that question, but soon it came time for his departure. I stood outside until I could no longer see him.

"I ran into our house, and Catriona began scolding me for not crying at Father's leave. I ignored her and ran into our barley fields, attempting to relax. When I came back into our cottage Norienne told me that something was wrong with my mother. I already knew she was weak, but I hadn't expected her to be sprawled out on the floor screaming his name. I tried to convince Mother that Father would return, but her bellows were over my words. Catriona again scolded me for even trying, saying that whatever I do makes it worse, and then I just exploded.

"I couldn't have any more of her torment, my mother's weakness, and my father's absence. So to settle it all, I went into our barn and fetched this scythe so I could defend myself from any dangers along the way. I had managed to walk to the seaside, which really wasn't as far away as I thought, and soon found a harbor. I had a good stow-away technique of climbing into crates and covering myself, so I went unseen. I had tried several different ships, but I could not find a direct one to Germany. I suppose I was a bit naïve to think that.

"I was eventually spotted on a ship that landed in Rouen, France, but luckily the man couldn't catch me for punishment. To catch my breath I decided to settle in an alley, and soon my hunger began to have a large effect on me. Lucky for me, I was not alone in that alley – it was then I met Auguste, and he supplied me with food and shelter. He's taught me many things; and for that I am grateful. His hideout was something very similar to this, and one day he was kind enough as to provide me with nice clothes. We went to a seamstress' shop and got me tailored. Her name was Amelie.

"Amelie wanted to protect us. She was very kind, and like my ideal mother. She provided us with better shelter and food supply, more than just theft from a bakery. She taught me how to sew, and from time to time I would assist her needlework. I've learned though that tranquility does not last forever. As Auguste and I were strolling down a common Rouen street after delivering something for Amelie, we spotted a man by the name of Sorel. Apparently he had done something vitally wrong and was being chased down for it. I am still unsure of what it is entirely, but I knew it would cause Auguste, Amelie and I chaos.

"Amelie had warned us of the soldiers, and how we should watch how we acted in public. Soon it would be put into effect, her words, for one day Auguste and I had returned from an afternoon of venturing and we headed to the workshop's second floor to rest. While we were up there, soldiers entered the shop and declared that they had suspected the Sorel gentleman to be hiding there. When Amelie tried to tell them the truth they just shot her and began searching the workshop for him. Auguste and I knew that we had to leave, so we crashed out the window. The soldiers were immediately at our feet, and we managed escape in Auguste's hideout. I had discovered that there were tunnels connecting to Auguste's home; we crawled to the outskirts of Rouen and started our travel afoot to out of the country.

"I won't mean to drag on about our travels, for nothing happened to affecting happened then except for when we met Jacqueline at a horse stable. Have I… thoroughly explained myself, Edwyn?"

He looked somber, with his hands folded and covering his mouth. His eyes were closed. I began to wonder why he looked so regretful, and as I glanced around I saw the same look painted across the other men's faces. Evidently something must have struck them that had not to me.

"Marienbard… Oh, Marienbard," Edwyn moaned, rubbing his face in his hands. "I should do a little explaining myself." I held my breath. After reciting my entire life to get some answers, I would finally be favored. When my lungs started functioning again, my breath was steady, yet my body was tingling with anxiety. It was time.

"Auguste or Jacqueline, though I doubt it, may have heard of this." Edwyn seemed hesitant, but my eyes plead for him to continue. "There is an entity called the Azure Knight…" The men in the room twitched – even my two friends – and it left me feeling excluded. My trepidation grew immensely.

"He is a horrid creature; taking the shape of a deformed human clad in blue armor. You can undoubtedly recognize him, for his left arm is that of a monstrous demon. His doings are no less; performing countless massacres… He has murdered too many people, Marienbard, but no one can stop him. Not as long as he is holding a power known as Soul Edge."

Jacqueline screamed and fell backwards off her seat, clutching her ruby hair tightly. I started up to help her, but Edwyn held my arm and pointed to Jacqueline as she was about to speak. "It got inside my head once…" she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It tried to make me kill my brothers… I had my hands around one of their necks… His face was growing violet, and his eyes were bloodshot – it was just moments before he was dead…! He was armed though, and made a stroke of the knife to my face. Once that happened, all the gruesome thoughts were out of my head and I was in tears next to him. Because of me… he's been mute for the rest of his life… _Because of that cursed sword!" _

She began to sob again, and Auguste went to soothe her. I slowly sat back down and turned my gaze to Edwyn, my mouth slightly open and wondering if I should tell him to resume or not. He did, though.

"Soul Edge is a sword of demonic powers. Once, long ago, it was a weapon of justice – yet after countless ages of brutality it was bathed into bloodshed and smithed into an evil object. Most men who touch it go insane, hurting their loved ones. As soon as you have your hand wrapped around that blade's hilt, it will devour your soul. Like I said, most lose their sanity just by stepping near it, yet even if you are just a bit stronger than that it will turn you into a nightmare. Some are forced into slavery by the sword, and from there are cursed to feed it innocent souls forever. Its wielder, the Azure Knight, is a monster created by Soul Edge. He does its bidding gleefully and depends on the sword to survive.

"As you may have guessed, the German army is fighting against the Azure Knight. It is such a futile effort…The losses are great – thousands and thousands of lives, just giving Soul Edge its nourishment. The war is probably over by now, considering the damage he has already done." Edwyn looked up. "Marienbard…your father was a valiant man, and he did everything he could to help us." My lips began to tremble, and my hands were so built with anxiety I could not cease them from vibrating. "I watched it with my own eyes… He ran up to the Azure Knight with his sword, yet when the demon turned around…" Edwyn breathed in deeply.

"Marienbard… your father is… dead."


	7. Descending

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Descending**

How had I not seen this? The news came as such a shock, yet then it was so obvious. Nonetheless I wailed and tears fell out of my eyes before I could force them back. My father, dead! All of my efforts to saving him and rejoicing with my family in Ireland were completely gone; weathered like a delicate flower – so joyous in its life, and then once it begins to deteriorate it cannot be saved until all you have left is a melancholic demonstration of what it could have been. I was such a fool!

I could not hear anything as my wings – my hope – failed me. I plummeted into self-pity and mourn; doing so by running out of Edwyn's base. I dashed through the tunnels, holding only my scythe, crying and facing the truth. For the longest time I had pushed down any doubts about my father, yet now I let them engulf me. I knew I was an idiot. I was aware of all my flaws and sadness now.

I hoisted myself through the breach and ran down the corridor to where the shattered window was, gazing out at the still battlefield. Corpses were covering the thrashed ground, no movements – even the wind seemed dead – yet I scanned the field for a glimpse of that hellish Azure Knight. By God, I wished someone had murdered him…

My teeth were clenched, deciding to handle matters about the demon who wielded Soul Edge later, and my eyes burned from my salty tears. I jumped out through the shards of glass and walked amongst the battlefield, trying to find my father. I knew that Auguste and Jacqueline were watching me from the corridor. When I further scanned the men, I found Feidhelm, and my knees buckled.

His eyes were wide open, dry blood crusting up areas in his nose, head and elsewhere, dirt was covering his face, giving him a bronze glow with all his perspiration. My father's hair was tousled, and his thin lips pursed. I fell onto the ground next to him and saw the blood still spilling from his chest where I guessed the Azure Knight had slain him. I did not pay attention to the strange black and violet puss also staining the ground, for when I looked closer into his grey eyes I saw they were fairly moist. My strong emotions crumbled apart, and I laid there with my father, weeping with him also.

My scythe is all I have left of my father. I feel nothing anymore – I am empty, despite the cold sadness racked up in my heart, which from there flows through my veins. My eyes have become sore and dry from crying so much, and most of my tears are gone, but the melancholy stays. It will stay forever with me; nothing can stray me from these thoughts.

Auguste and Jacqueline have tried countless times to try and brighten me, and all their attempts have done no better.

"Marienbard, would you like some bread?" Jacqueline whispers.

I shake my head slowly.

"Water?"

I shake my head again.

"You need to eat something."

"What nourishment will food give me…?"

Like food, sleep means nothing to me anymore. I stay up and call my father's name, perhaps thinking that he might come back for an idiotic reason. My eyes throb and they are bloodshot; whenever I blink it causes pain – I cannot even commence tears to fall out of them they are so dehydrated…but water is nothing.

Everything is nothing! Jacqueline, Auguste, Edwyn, Amelie… they are nothing. I am nothing. I cannot find other words to describe this emotional phase I am experiencing. The blush that had once blossomed in my cheeks when I set my eyes on Auguste was gone, and so was the laughter that escaped my lips at Jacqueline's humor. The nights that I had stayed awake and cried for my father I had also begged the stars for answers, but I received none. The one answer I _had _been given, the news about my father, had only caused depression. I will no longer ask questions, therefore receiving no answers so nothing may harm me – for look at what one answer has caused upon me already.

The moon wanes, and I watch lifelessly as it will soon wax.

I know that Auguste is troubled by me – but I do not pay attention to him.

"Marienbard–"

"Why do you try, Auguste?" I interrupt him with a dry, quiet voice.

"Try what?"

"To assist me." For once I turn and leer at him with pained eyes. "Why do you try to assist me? You have found nothing to fulfill your destiny – whatever it is – and here we are in Germany… nothing has cried out to you… so why are you still here?" I speak shallowly, yet I want to make him feel guilty. Did he not see the deep and passionate love I wanted to give him? Jacqueline had kept him distracted from me… Some of my sadness had formed into anger. Such calamity my emotions were in!

"I am afraid I don't know what you are speaking of…" His voice was so forgiving, and if I were my normal self I would have started apologizing for my rude behavior.

"I know you don't!" I yell, standing up and facing eye-to-eye with him. "You never do anymore! You've lost your connections with me," I grit my teeth, tears fogging my eyes. "_She _is the one you jest with now. _She _is the one you'd prefer to converse with; mighty brigand Jacqueline is nothing compared to melodramatic peasant Marienbard!_ Try to understand the pain I am going through right now! Please!"_

"I love you."

"I'm sure you do," I spit, my words dripping with sarcasm and eyes glowing fiery with something similar to hatred. "You demonstrated it; the day you 'kissed' me when we were escaping Rouen? I understand why you pressed your lips to mine – you just wanted to _shut me up! _'You're a monster, Marienbard,' is what is running through your head right now – I can feel it. News for you, _I'm _not the one with the head of a beast!"

We stand in silence, tears rolling down my cheeks and my breathing heavy. My fingernails have dug so deep into my palms that I am sure blood is spilling; hence the stinging pain that had erupted. I stare at him, trying to figure out what is going on in his head, daring him to fight back. Soon my shoulders begin to shake, and my narrowed eyebrows curve upwards. I bow my head and sob, Auguste walking towards me. He wraps his arms around my back, holding me tight.

"I hate you," I whisper through a mouthful of tears.

"I know."

"So much." I add on.

"I know."

"I hate you…!" I repeat, trying to struggle from his grasp.

"Yes."

"Why are you still here…? Why do you follow me…?"

"Because you hate me."

More silence.

"I will destroy Soul Edge…" I murmur.

"I shall accompany you."

"I must avenge my father's soul."

"You will succeed."

I shut my eyes and fell to a slumber. Auguste laid me down, assuming his words were the last, but something kept echoing in my head…

_You will fail._

After the night of the commotion Auguste and I had, I was no better. Though I had caught up on little bits of sleep, I refused to eat anything. I had become so stubborn that my rib cage began to show through my skin, and I truly had no energy to do anything.

"Marienbard, you look awful!" Jacqueline squeaked. I grunted and faced away from her. "You _have _to eat something." She pled. I just blinked my tired and bloodshot eyes, adverting my gaze from her. I heard her let out a sigh, and then she walked away.

I sat alone, thinking of my family and I was beat with guilt. I had left them – Catriona, Mother, and poor little Norienne – just to come and find my father dead. I contemplated returning to them, just to redeem myself, but I knew they were dead. Even if they were somehow alive, Catriona would haunt me forever; reminding me how I abandoned them to find father. Many times she would call me narcissist.

And Norienne! She would never speak to me again; mortified that I would leave them in the cold famine just to go adventuring – seeing new places, meeting new people… She had always trusted me, too. Norienne saw the way Catriona had treated me and was always afraid to approach her, the poor child. And to deceive her like this? I let out a whimper and buried my face in my hands. I should have never departed for my journey.

Before I could think about any more regrets, Auguste marched up to me with a bottle and pinned me flat on the ground. He hand both of my hands clasped above my head and held the bottle with the other. When he put it to my lips, creamy warm liquid hit my mouth. I struggled out of his grasp, squirming and kicking, but it only made the cream spill all over me. When the bottle was empty and most of the feed was in my mouth, he tossed to Jacqueline without looking at her and put his palm firmly on my lips.

"Swallow," he ordered.

I shook my head.

"_SWALLOW," _he repeated, stressing the word with strict inflictions.

I fidgeted, but eventually let it slide down my throat. To be honest, I felt much better. Auguste took the cloth that was tied about his shoulders and dabbed the spots on my face and clothes where the cream had spilled. I blushed… then realized that the horrible depressive state had vanished! I felt much more than nothing now.

"Th…thank you, Auguste," I murmured, a warmer more cordial tone to my voice now. Jacqueline let out a moan of relief.

"You're a wizard, Auguste. A rotten wizard." Her brown eyes were wide and she was adjusting her bandana so it was closer to her head.

"Y-You can get off me now… I really am feeling better," I let out a hoarse laugh. He did so slowly.

"What do we do now, Marienbard?" Jacqueline pondered, her headgear now fitted comfortably on her scalp.

"We find Soul Edge," I say, my gaze fixed on the horizon, then I turn to my friends. "If that's alright with you two."

"Are you kidding? That's like the ride of my LIFE! You bet I'm tagging along!" She ran up next to me and locked arms, causing me to let out a soft laugh, and we began walking. Auguste approached my other side, and as Jacqueline was chanting and giggling he silently slipped his hand into mine.

"I will follow you…" He whispered so only I could hear.

* * *

**Btw, you know what's more fun than writing a chapter about your character being angsty? Writing another character force feeding her. XD**


	8. Shelter

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Shelter**

_A few miles east of the battlefields_

"Where on earth do you think Soul Edge would be?"

After days of travel, we decided to take a rest by a river. The sounds of rushing water reminded me of home; so if anything I should feel comfortable, but as Jacqueline pondered the question about the destination of Soul Edge it left me wondering. She skipped stones on the currents of the water, the cuffs of her cotton trousers rolled up to her knees, and the rhythmic taps of the pebbles sounded like a ticking clock. After a few minutes of contemplation, I sighed.

"I really have no idea. I'm sure… Auguste would know, though." He had gone into the town nearby to purchase food and blankets since we were so short of them.

"You can't resist him, can you?" Jacqueline chuckled, and my thoughts skid into a halt at the exact moment her stone sunk into the water with a splash.

"… I won't validate that question," I force out of my mouth. She laughs again.

"I'm only teasing. I'm sure that you two have a very close 'relationship',"—I did not like her emphasis on that word—"after all. I mean, you've only known each other for like…two years?" she shrugs. "Well for a long time. I understand that you have lady-feelings bunched up inside for him–"

I stand up. "I think that if you don't mind, Jacqueline, I am going to go wash myself now. Thank you, for your lecture." I grab one of our worn linen blankets to use as a rag for drying myself off and march to a more secluded part of the river. I hear Jacqueline cackle, then the thumping of her rocks resumes.

There was a nice spot where the river turned into a forest then converged to form a small pond that I found peaceful. After all, the pond was shrouded around in beautiful green trees and a willow was draping directly over it. I laid my towel on a round stone and took a deep breath, commencing to unbraid my hair. My oasis was not at all far from where Jacqueline was, but as long as I could escape her blistering voice all was well. I smirked at my own comment, then began to undress myself. My emerald hair had grown long past my hips – hitting my thighs – and I had not realized how much hair the French Braid hid. My locks almost seemed to be weighing me down.

Feeling a sudden chill creep up the ends of my arms, I sat down on the ledge of the pond and let my feet slide in. I had anticipated the water to be rather chilly, but surprisingly it was soothing; this is how I imagined a noble would bathe every day. I spread my hair over my breasts so that I could feel more comfortable, and I splashed some water on my arms. I felt so relaxed that I could fall asleep, but I didn't want to risk drowning.

I began to hum a folk song from the Great Empire that my father taught me, and I had become so carried away that I began to sing aloud.

"_Are you going to Scarborough fair?_

_ Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!_

_ Remember me to one who lives there,_

_ He once was a true love of mine._

_ Tell him to make me a cambric shirt._

_ Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme!_

_ Without a seam nor needle work,_

_ Then he'll be a true love of mine."_

I submerged under the water, and when I rose my wet hair was all in my face. I laughed cordially, and then went under again to remove them from my eyes. Soon I had decided that my bathing was over, with a rush of water I pulled myself out from the pond, dripping wet, and sat on a smooth flat rock. I reached for my white breaches and pulled out an ivory comb that Amelie had given me. Before commencing, I rang all the water out of my hair and tried to dry it with the linen cloth as much as I could. Combing all the tangles after washing was a bit of a hassle, yet once I was finished my hair looked like a true emerald; not only color-wise, but it also had a shine to it.

In midst of the cleanliness, I decided to wash my clothes as well. The soaked in the pond and were hanging on a tree branch to dry. I finished my bath by drying up with the linen cloth. As I passed the time for my clothes to dry I began to re-braid my hair, and as I was doing so I thought about singing again, then I heard a twig snap in the distance. I glanced up for a moment, then classified it only as a bird. I resumed my braiding.

"Marienbard you have to come quick I–" Auguste bolted into the scene but soon saw my naked body and skid to a halt. I shrieked and leapt up, hiding behind my hanging clothes. Inevitably he had seen my bare bosom! I blushed so hard and profusely that even my neck was red.

"What are you doing here?"

"J-J-Jacqueline told me you were o-over here s-so I-I—"

"Just leave so I can make myself decent, PLEASE!"

He turned but tripped on his own feet, clumsily getting up and mumbling things, then skittered away. I was breathing very heavy. Once I returned I was going to strangle Jacqueline. I felt my clothes and, ironically, they were dry. Muttering a curse, I slipped them on and left to the river where base was. Auguste was fidgeting uncomfortably and I saw Jacqueline trying to swallow a smile. I leered at her.

"So," I said, clearing my throat, "what is this oh-so-urgent news?"

"Ah… erm, well, as I was in town I uncovered some news about Soul Edge."

The awkward scene we had both shared was completely behind me now, and all my attention was closed on the cursed sword.

"Really? Do tell," I said eagerly.

"Apparently there's an old castle not too far from here called Ostrheinsburg. It has quite the reputation for having the same evil energy as Soul Edge. Either that, or it's like a magnet to the sword." He pulled out a satchel filled with food and tossed Jacqueline and me a roll. "I'm sure if we go there we might find better clues on the sword."

Jacqueline frowns.

"So you don't think we'll find THE Soul Edge there?"

"No," he says, scratching his neck, "that would be too simple. But we are going to undoubtedly find accurate information on it." She groans.

"Whatever," she mumbles. I think, however, Auguste has a good plan. He always does the wisest things… except for barging in on peoples' private business. The nerve!

"So, you said Ostrheinsburg was in eastern Germany somewhere?" I say, finishing my bread.

"Yes, so now what we do is head over there."

"Hooray, more travelling," Jacqueline cheers, dripping with sarcasm.

"Lighten up," I tease, giving her a nudge. "If we've made it this far, surely a bit more travelling won't hurt you."

"WHY COULDN'T WE HAVE GOTTEN OUR HORSES BACK?" Jacqueline yells, the sack on her back weighing her down dramatically. Her voice is hoarse, surprisingly, and bags are drooping under her eyes. I give her a pitiful look.

"Because…they had already shot them," I say, my mouth twitching as I searched in my memory on what exactly happened that day. My voice took a higher pitch at the end of my sentence as if I were asking myself a question.

"No they hadn't!" she retorts. "They just galloped away with them."

I flared my nostrils. "Well I heard gunshots after they were stolen. Whether they killed them or not is up to you."

Jacqueline and I had been arguing for the past several days we had been traveling. She always started the commotion – complaining about something and I only tried to comfort her, yet she had to turn it into a debate. I felt bad for Auguste, who was stuck in the middle of it and couldn't really take sides unless he wanted a scolding by Jacqueline and her irritating voice or by me and my piercing glare.

I did have to agree, though, that the last few days of travel were very back-wrecking, and I hoped Auguste thought so also. He was the one who always decided if we were going to stop and rest in a town or not.

"Alright," he said, wheezing a breath. "We're going to rest here." He immediately dropped our supplies and fell on the ground. Though I was glad we could stop and catch our breath, I became suspicious. There were no spots of civilization around where we had decided to stop, and it was very chilly.

"Auguste… I don't think there are any towns nearby—"

"It doesn't matter," he said, lying flat on his back. "I just want to rest for a few moments…"

I tried to flash a concerned look at Jacqueline to see if maybe she would agree with me, but she had already collapsed too. I sighed, and decided to sit down and rest my back on a shiny rock. When my clothes touched it though, I flinched back in shock and turned to see that it was completely made of ice! When I looked at my feet, I saw that the ground was solid ice also. My breaths came in short puffs of air.

I quickly glanced around the edge of the ice wall, anticipating some kind of Yeti to leap at me, and saw that there was a pirate ship and some kind of extinct animal all trapped in ice! I gasped silently and whipped my head around to where my friends were sleeping.

"Auguste, Jacqueline – wake up. I don't think this is particularly safe…" I whispered, gently shaking her.

"Go 'way, worry wart," Jacqueline mumbled, trying to wave me off but instead she pushed our satchel full of supplies. I gasped as it began to slide on the ice… and into the freezing water. I became livid.

"Jacqueline!" I hissed, hitting her side. "Look at what you've done!"

Auguste grunted. "What is it now, you two?"

I gripped my hair. "Don't any of you realize how serious this is? There went our supplies – and our money – just because you two wanted to catch up on some beauty sleep." As angry as I was, I couldn't succumb myself to yell at them. I suppose it was a natural trait I had, staying collected, as I had remembered the similar scene when my father was leaving for Germany – how I was the only one who wasn't shedding tears.

The two couldn't come up to say anything back. I sighed and stood. "We should travel while we still have energy – and we don't want to fall asleep in this weather." They lazily rose to their feet, their heads groggily, but soon their sleepiness was out of their system.

"How about we just get out of wherever we are and into a more… normal place. Then you two can rest all the day."

Jacqueline and Auguste nodded, and he took the lead. He stopped us in our tracks though, gasping and pushing us back against the wall.

"I know, Auguste," I whispered. "It's a creature stuck in the ice. I've never seen it before myself—"

He shook his head and put a finger on my lips. I swallowed.

"It's a man," he said extremely quietly. "He's walking about. Don't…make…a sound…"

Of course, though, Jacqueline slipped on the ice and let out a shriek. Auguste put his face in his hands and muttered something brusque that I'd rather not repeat.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, I knew there were some dogs lurking about. Reveal yourself," the man called, a mocking and noble tone to his voice. With a mutter, Auguste lead the way and stepped down from where we were hiding to the platform of ice where the blonde gentleman stood, his thin sword unsheathed. I immediately recognized him.

"Jacqueline…That's the Sorel gentleman from Rouen!" I whispered. Her eyes gleamed but I told her to keep quiet.

The Sorel man made an elaborate dueling bow. "So, the evil sword has sent you to do it's bidding." He sneered, seemingly amused by Auguste.

Auguste began to stretch his legs out, his sword ready. "This is a real pain, you know?" He grumbled, then started the duel by slashing his sword down at the man vertically.

He evaded the move so swiftly that it looked involuntary, and then hit the edge of his rapier on Auguste's back. Auguste let out a grunt of pain, and I winced. To counter guard the attack, Auguste spun his leg around in an attempt to trip his opponent, yet he leapt up and hit his hilt on Auguste's head. He let out a cry.

"What's wrong?" the Sorel man taunted, then thirsted his sword at Auguste. He miraculously blocked it with a width of his blade. The Sorel man retorted with a second thrust, this time stronger and breaking his foe's guard. Seeing his vulnerable state, he thrust several more times, extremely quick and merciless.

"Feel my wrath! Unending strings!"

I gasped and tore away from the scene, the fight getting worse and worse as Auguste let out cries of anguish. I didn't see the finish of the duel, but I knew it was tortuous as I heard blade meeting skin and teeth tearing into flesh. Auguste wailed. He had lost the fight.

I went to tell Jacqueline that we had to leave, yet when I turned she was gone, and right after I heard her battle cry. I kept hearing the crash of metal and Jacqueline switching from grunting to crying in her high-pitched voice.

"Who do you think you are? You're starting to annoy me," he said firmly, the smoothness of his tone indicating that he hadn't a scratch upon him. My breathing was quickening. Was he going to kill us? As I thought that I heard Jacqueline let out some kind of death cry and her body fell to the ice. My breathing ceased.

"It's not exactly accustomed to leave a duel in its progress by not revealing yourself," the Sorel gentleman called. I swallowed, holding my scythe tightly and shakily stepped onto the platform. My eyes were determined and transfixed on his gleaming red ones. I was not going to lose against him. My scythe was like my right arm, and it did not alter or fail. I held my position.

"Welcome. Let us celebrate your demise," he taunted.

"Effort, talent," I retorted coldly. "They are meaningless."

He seemed surprised that I said something in return, but before I could linger on that he lunged at me. My first thought was to guard against it, and I did so by using the long handle of my weapon, albeit his strength took me by surprise. I sidestepped toward him, the razor sharp blade coming at him fast and shredding a bit of his black coat.

He seemed a bit distracted, so I spun around, swinging my scythe in front of me, but he stepped behind me and struck his booted foot to my knees. I doubled over.

"Where are you going?" he mocked.

I grit my teeth and tried another attack. I missed him only by inches. How he had the luck or skill to humiliate me this way I did not know, but by now I knew I was going to lose the fight.

I did, after countless tries. Out of frustration I had swung my scythe vertically at him, but it struck the ground and became stuck in the ice. I panicked – I was completely vulnerable to him now. His read eyes gleamed, and his smile was so even it gave me goose bumps.

"Now do you see the futility of your ways?" He asked, his butter smooth voice almost seducing me. As he stepped closer to me I tried to show that I wasn't afraid of him, that I was iron-willed… I wasn't afraid…

I was, though.

What was he going to do to me? I took brief glances at Auguste and Jacqueline, who were lying motionless in pools of their own blood. My worried eyes looked from my scythe to the Sorel to my friends…

"My turn now."


	9. White Dove to Black Raven

**CHAPTER NINE: **White Dove to Black Raven

His eyes were bright red, crimson; the color of blood. A hungry look appeared on his face and he dove in for the kill. In a short glance I saw his tongue curl back and two razor sharp fangs appeared. They sunk into the skin of my neck, and his black gloved hands were firmly holding my shoulders.

"Nngh… N…no!" I cried out, my voice hoarse and clutching his shirt tightly in an attempt to try and push him away. My energy was draining as he sucked the blood out of my body like nectar to a hummingbird. I grew cold, despite the ice around us, and frail. My hands fell from him and I lost all weight of keeping myself propped up. I laid on the ground, excess blood trailing from my neck, and saw the man rise and wipe his mouth with his sleeve.

"Well? Will you join me?" Was the last thing I heard before my eyes slid into a blackout…

"Father? Is that you?" I ran to the silhouette of Feidhelm O'Flaherty and he turned, smiling and garbed in a glowing white robe. I embraced him.

"My daughter," he said, pulling me away and looking into my eyes.

"I must be dead, Father. Is this the Place Where Souls Depart?" I am so happy that tears are flowing out of my eyes. Father shakes his head and I laugh aloud.

"Oh, it is a miracle!" I grasp his hands in mine, despite their hollow feeling. "We shall return to Ireland together!" I calm myself, but can't stop smiling. "Catriona and Norienne will be overjoyed. I cannot even imagine Mother's face."

My father just blinks and smiles.

"You are… so happy that you are speechless?" I let out a feigned laugh.

He does nothing.

"Father…?"

I hear the deafening yowl of a banshee and gasp, covering my ears. I am aware of the Irish folklore concerning banshees. My father's figure is blown away, like ashes in the wind. "No!" I cry, but all that is left is his white robe. I collapse upon it, and as I am down on the floor with it, I see the feet of a woman standing before me. I look up and immediately recognize the color of her blonde hair.

"Amelie?"

When she turns around she smiles, but all that remains of her eyes are scratched out sockets with black tears streaming out of them. She laughs and twirls over in my direction, unsheathing a nasty pair of iron scissors, looking so sharp that they could pierce skin. Instead of a tool for making, it looked like a weapon for kill.

She picks up the glowing white garb and wraps it around me tightly while letting out a cold laugh, like a snake coiling up and suffocating a mouse. "How darling you look!" She screeches with a dry voice. "Ahahahahaha!" I tried to struggle from her chrysalis of white fabric, but it seemed that the more I struggled the tighter it became.

"Just a few _snips!_" Amelie jabbed at me with her sharp scissors. I cried. "White is the color of deceit, lies, and insanity," she sang, then backed away from me, examining her work. A maniacal laugh escapes her blue lips, more of those black tears running down her cheeks and staining her teeth. A cage came down upon her, and she wailed, soon disappearing.

I tried to escape my white clothes but found my arms strapped to my chest. In my struggle my hair became loose, emerald colored strands blinding my vision, but once I realized my freedom was futile I looked up and saw that my surroundings had changed: around me were padded white walls and an iron door with countless locks. I stumbled over and looked through its small bar window, seeing a hallway with other people in their rooms climbing and banging on their doors like primates. An asylum.

I heard the squeaking of wheel over all of the chaotic screaming to the sound of a cart rolling down a hall. The man with the cart stopped at my door, holding a bottle filled with contents that I knew was foul. He opened the door and leapt upon me. This man was evidently Auguste unmasked! My; how handsome he looked… dark wavy hair, soft amber eyes… He put the bottle of Foul Contents to my mouth. I screamed.

"Swallow," he instructed. I flailed my legs, attempting to kick him but failing. "SWALLOW," he repeated.

Déjà vu.

I did as I was told and he left my cell. "Lights out!" Some other doctor in the hallway yelled. Darkness surrounded me instead of the bright padded walls. I felt a tingling in my neck, probably just a spasm from the medicine. I heard and irritating squeaking.

"Stop it, Jacqueline," I mumbled, my voice uneven. They did not cease. I began to hit my head on the wall. "Shut up…shut up, shut up…" I wiggled violently and my straps finally became loose. I pulled at my hair with my newly freed arms, but soon a burning sensation arose in my eyes.

A-agh! Cursed medicine… Next a toothache. What a horrible one at that! It was right in the middle, too; the teeth I use most. It felt like I had taken stone to my teeth…

_Marienbard._

Who was that? The voice sounded familiar. Speak again, please, sir.

_Marienbard, are you listening?_

It is a phantom! I should not mess with it… But then – my stomach begins to sting! The agony!

_I can help you, Marienbard._

Never trust a demon, they only lead you into despair… yet again, I am growing cold and numb… what is happening?

_I can ease your pain._

Silence! Do not speak to me any longer… Leave me alone – alas! The poisoning medicine! It is crushing me!

_Will you lend me your open mind?_

Yes! I mean, whatever you can do to release this misery! Just tell me what's wrong…

_You are hungry._

Hunger? What a pathetic cause for all this. I knew better than to trust you.

_It is not a hunger for bread or food, Marienbard._

Then what is it? Freedom? A hunger for equality?

_Not exactly. The rats, Marienbard. Cannot you sense the energy within them?_

Yes… yes, I do, sir… It-it smells something like iron…

_It's their blood, Marienbard! Feel their blood boil!_

Yes! That was it! Their blood… I longed for it; and I feasted upon it. Oh—how full of energy I felt! Thank you, sir. You have saved me… you are my master; I am loyal to you, my master…

"Master Sorel!"

My eyes flew open and I bolted upright, cool sweat lying on my skin. My breathing was heavy and my cold and numb body was trembling all over. I sat for a moment, my thoughts tumbling over themselves on what my dream just was, and I could not get a grip upon them. My father, Amelie, Auguste and some hints of Jacqueline… They were all people I loved. So why had the voice of the Sorel gentleman appeared…?

It was all a nightmare, then.

Around me were dingy and dirty walls giving off a horrible stench of rot and corpse. The grime dirtied my white silk clothing, which disappointed me, but at the moment I knew that just merely surviving in what had happened hours earlier with the duel was much more important. I look at Auguste and Jacqueline who also look tired and ragged.

"A dungeon?" I say. Auguste nods.

"Not a pleasant place to be, huh?" He smacks away a spider that had crawled up his arm. I blinked and remembered my dream, turning to Jacqueline.

"Do you…?"

She answered by feigning a smile, revealing her sharp new fangs. I felt my own with my tongue, almost cutting myself with them. My gaze fell upon her again.

"Jacqueline… tell me what color my eyes are."

"They are yellow, like mine."

I let out a shaky breath of shock, then put my finger to my skin. It feels ice cold and empty.

"He's… He's malfested us…" I said, my voice faint and dry. "We're… creatures of the night–"

"Vampires," Auguste finishes.


	10. The Flock

**CHAPTER TEN: **The Flock

We were locked in that cellar for a few days, surviving on insects and mice, yet if we were lucky a large rat would visit for us to prey upon. We spoke very little to each other, as if afraid the more we spoke the more of vampires we would become. Auguste cradled me in his arms and Jacqueline and I held each other's hands tight. Now, as far as we had all gotten and all the chaos we had experienced, nothing would separate us.

Soon, the Sorel man himself had opened the door, unsheathing the blinding light of the outside. "Well, there are still the three of you. I'm quite impressed. All of the other candidates end up eaten by each other." He motioned us to step out of the cellar. We stepped out into a gloomy courtyard, the skies above us shrouded with grey clouds. He turned and began to walk towards a grand and ominous castle, speaking with us.

"You three will serve as my minions. You are loyal to me, your master; Raphael Sorel."

_Master Raphael Sorel… _I repeated in my head. For some reason I had grown very protective of him and longed to be his favorite. I will serve you with my life, master.

Raphael ceased his pace and glanced at us. "Your names?"

"Marienbard O'Flaherty sir," I said first with a loyal bow.

"Your surname won't be necessary, or needed for that matter. The other two?"

"Auguste and Jacqueline, sir." I speak for them.

"And are you three related?"

I shake my head. "No sir, though we are all very close."

We continue walking only a few more steps before Jacqueline decided to speak up.

"So… are you the noble who is wanted in Rouen?"

He cringed. I wanted to kick her.

"So they're still buzzing about that."

She flinches. "Ah, well, not really sir, I was only curious."

"They are my matters and they are not yours to meddle with. I do not question your past."

Jacqueline bows her head respectively.

"Master, what will be our objectives as your servants?" Auguste says, much more humble and stately than Jacqueline.

"We will converse those matters when we arrive at my manor. Right now I must contradict myself and know you three better." He adjusts the scabbard on his belt that is cradling his rapier, as if to warn us that we are but mere servants and he can do as he pleases with us. "I trust you are searching for Soul Edge?"

Master Sorel knew what Soul Edge was? I suppose the matters _were_ universal after all. How ignorant of me; surely if they had churned up a war in Germany about Soul Edge that it was worldwide news. "Yes, sir. The Azure Knight has depicted death upon my family, and I wish to avenge those lost souls."

"I see. You won't have that as your priority, unfortunately. Post pone your vengeance to after your terms with me."

I nodded respectfully. "Yes, Master Sorel."

As we were heading to his castle, Raphael commenced to telling us about himself. He narrated his past and how he had once lived in Rouen as the young master of his family, but soon he had committed something that he refused to explain. Nonetheless he had to escape the soldiers that were chasing him, much like how it had happened with Auguste and I, and a small street child named Amy had saved him.

I could tell by how he explained his experience with her that he could speak _endlessly_ about Amy. Raphael even decided to take her in as his own daughter, since her original parents were dead, and they managed to be freed from the bustling city. He said that he too had heard about Soul Edge and wanted to seek it, doing so by leaving Amy alone in their mansion and setting off for his quest. He kept inflicting in his story that he had to make a "perfect world for Amy." I suppose he wanted to make up the bad childhood she had, and he thought that finding the cursed sword would be the way to accomplish that.

Raphael had been defeated in battle and struggled back home, infected with the evil plague of the sword Soul Edge. Amy had tried to tend his wounds but she had become infected also, and the two had become vampires. I felt pity over my master now – he was trying so hard to have an easy life for Amy, yet so many obstacles kept blocking their path… It struck my heart like ice.

The two had to leave again, now fleeing for a country in Transylvania. They settled in a province called Wallachia, in which he resides now, trying still to make Amy happy. Even with a few years gone by the news of Soul Edge had risen once again, and of course he set off on another adventure to find it.

"I returned once more empty handed," Master Sorel said, sighing. "When I returned I had been wracked with guilt by Amy; the forgiving look in her eyes struck me… After leaving her so many times and she still forgave me. I was such a horrible father…" He recollects himself.

"And now I fear it has risen again. It would truly break her heart for me to leave her once more, so I must be slow about leaving for my quest. Often and again I travel into distant countries just to see if any major news has risen, yet never have I left Amy alone for more than two months. She is too young and has been through too many hardships to have experience such loneliness." He turns to face us.

"This, is my manor."

To any other person, Raphael's estate looked ominous, like it belonged to a dark and brooding count, controlling the minds of the villages miles away, but as I was now chosen into his favor, it was jaw-dropping; I stood there for what seemed like an eternity musing at this grand palace that I would eventually have to call home.

The tall cast iron doors creaked open slowly as we entered into the great hall. A red Turkish carpet lay on the floor beneath our feet, creating a velvety pathway through the mansion. At the end of the hall was a large window almost touching the ceiling, which looked like something out of a cathedral with all of its intricate patterns with the glass, all that were missing were that colors and a portrait of a saint.

A small girl appeared in the dark corridor to our left, holding a porcelain doll and staring silently at Raphael with his same bright crimson irises. He turned and noticed her, smiling fatherly. "Amy," He stepped over, planting a kiss on her forehead. Amy stepped out of the darkness to stand beside her father.

She looked to be about thirteen, a bit on the short side, with red hair that was curled loosely into dual pigtails. She had a cloth choker at her neck, and clutching her torso tightly was a bodice the color of violets. I kept myself from wincing – with a corset squeezing that tightly to her chest she would never develop in time. Taking my gaze off the paining bodice I almost blushed at how short her skirt was – it did not even reach her knees! I suppose that in some sort of compensation she had black lace stockings in an embroidering that was similar to a spider's web. I quickly took my gaze away from Amy, telling myself it was rude to stare.

"Amy, these are three new members of our service." He introduced, unable to remove the small smile from his face. Amy only briefly stared at us, as if judging by our ragged appearances, then set her blinking eyes to the floor.

"I will be in my room, Father." She muttered and Raphael nodded in acknowledgement.

Master Sorel gave us our objectives and because of my Irish blood set me as cook. Auguste and I were parted as he was in charge of tending to the horses and their stables. When he wasn't doing any animal monitoring, Auguste was the weaponry keeper. He told me that Raphael's favored weapon was his grand Flambert, which was the heirloom of the Sorel house. It's English rapier hilt was crimson and decorated with silver. Auguste told me that his personal favorite was Mater Sorel's estoc, which looked like that of a large needle.

Jacqueline was Amy's maid, which I scoffed at, considering her personality. She would complain to me during the times that Amy send her away and rant to me. She keeps saying that she'd rather go back to the cooking with me, as that was her first obligation. Jacqueline was appointed to the latter when Master Sorel almost consumed raw meat.

Jacqueline watched me as I peeled potatoes and their skin fell into a bowl. "How is it you're so good at that?"

I smile. "The potato is the staple crop of my homeland," I begin another. "Of course I am very crafty with it. I know an ages worth of recipes."

She sighs. "Well you lucked out. That Amy girl is a brat!" She exclaims, pouting and crossing her arms.

"Hush!" I order, putting a finger to my lips. "You need to keep your opinions to yourself. If Master Sorel heard you, who knows what could have happened." I point my skinning knife at her in a stern way. "We should be grateful. Master knows a lot about Soul Edge, or seems like it at least. Once we've finished our time with him we will be more than ready to accomplish our primitive goal."

I do not know why I said that. I know that Jacqueline and I both have a sickly and obsessive loyalty to Master Sorel. To be honest, after this transformation from a human to a slave vampire I would rather stay with Raphael than go looking for Soul Edge. The reason why, I was unsure; probably something to do with his manipulation of our minds. Jacqueline scratched at the skin near her underarm.

"You're right. But one thing that I CANNOT stand, I don't care who hears me, are these itchy uniforms!" Master Sorel tossed away our old and torn clothes and then addressed us with these outfits. The blouse was black and had a white bodice clutching my beneath my breasts, the skirt was black also, with white lace trimming the hem and a small apron beneath where the bodice ended. Below all of that we had to wear a corset and an opaque collar that better covered my revealing collarbones. My hands were gloved with grey cloth and a unique design embroidered on them. To complete the uniform were rouge tights, silver boots, and a white bonnet atop my head.

_I _was dressed in the appropriate code – the full code, at that – but being the free spirit that she is, Jacqueline had to rebel. She did not wear the corset or the collar – such cleavage was showing it made her look like she was some kind of tavern wench. Also, instead of wearing the elegant cotton gloves she wrapped her arms and knuckles in bandages. I loved Jacqueline like the sister I never had, but by Our Holy Savior I wanted to give her a lesson.

Auguste didn't have any uniform, since he was handling the horses and such his clothes were constantly dirtied. Of course, he still bore the wolf mask upon his head. I wondered if he looked like the way I pictured Auguste unmasked in my dream earlier. Perhaps one day he might show me.

When we had finished our objectives for the day, we washed in a fairly sized wooden tub and went to our boarding houses, which was a small annexed room to the kitchen where our beds were. We never slept, though. In fact, most of our work was in the midst of night. It was our freshest time of the day. Though I hate to admit it sometimes, I know that we are forever malfested.


	11. Under the Wing

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Under the Wing**

Of all the times I had delivered food to him, Master Sorel seemed to be buried in a book or gazing out his window. He is always very deep in thought, for when I scratch at the door he never answers. I must always repeat myself to get his attention and access his study.

"Your dinner, Master." He grunts in acknowledgement.

For Jacqueline, her patience with Amy grows shorter by the day. I pity the two of them and wonder if I should try and ease this tension or not. I decide to slip away from my cooking duties for a while and visit Auguste to see if he can help me or offer at least a bit of advice.

"Auguste!" I say, almost skipping towards him. "I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages." We embrace, but he doesn't let go.

"Auguste?"

"Forgive me, but with our tight schedules I always wonder whether or not we will see each other."

Eventually I push away him. "Never you mind that. The stables are not miles away from the kitchen or anything."

"True. Is there something you need? I'd be delighted to groom your mane, or perhaps we could saddle you up and trot about the valleys of Wallachia?"

I laugh. "No, although you sound quite tempted. Unfortunately Jacqueline doesn't particularly bond well with Miss Amy. Sometimes I wonder if it is one girl bothering the other."

"Have you seen Miss Amy? Do you deliver her food to her?" he asks.

"Not directly. Whenever I scratch at the door she wishes me to leave it outside. Other than the night we all arrived here I have not seen Miss Amy."

"She seems to be a solitary butterfly…"

"Yes, yet Jacqueline has called her other things."

"Like what?" he whispers eagerly, leaning forward a bit. I swallow, looking both directions before replying.

"A brat."

He snorts. "That wasn't as profane as I expected."

"I don't fear the words themselves," I scrunch my nose, "believe me, Catriona has said much worse to me, what I am afraid of are the ears that might hear them."

"Ah, yes, I understand."

"Do you think I should interfere?" I fiddle with the tail of my braid nervously.

"Personally, I think it would be the correct thing to do; benefitting both Jacqueline and Miss Amy, but its whether or not you have the courage to converse this with Master Raphael or not. After all, it is his decision anyway."

I nod. "Yes, that sounds good…but what after that?"

He is silent for a few moments, contemplating, then says to me in a playful voice; "Here is a crazy idea…why don't _you _take Jacqueline's job?"

The thought of me being Amy's governess caught me completely off-guard, but it did seem like a rather clever idea. But Auguste was correct; how on earth was I to convince Master Raphael for the job? "I just don't know how to tell him…" I say, shifting.

"Think about how you will approach him for a few days, you don't want to screw up in front of _him_."

We laugh. "Auguste, you're brilliant," I say into his shoulder, hugging him again. "Ah, but I have slacked off for too long. Dinner needs to be served," I pull away from him and dash off, picking up my skirts so I don't trip on them. I hear Auguste call my name, but I do not turn around, as a million different things regarding me as Amy's maid distract my mind.

Today's supper is lamb with a parsley seasoning and some potatoes on the side. As I was cooking Jacqueline entered the kitchen as usual but did not speak. When I glanced at her it spoke all the words; she and Amy must have trifled again. "What happened now?" I ask, plating the entrees. Her cheeks just blush even harder and her scowl deepens. I put my spoon back in the pot and walk over to her, beginning to speak again before Jacqueline stands and marches past me.

"She looks like a bloody prostitute," Jacqueline spits through gritted teeth, heading for the miniscule boarding house. My jaw drops wide and I let out a gasp, both disappointed and shocked that she would say such a thing. I try to call out to her, but know that it is futile. As I stand in awe I realize that there still things on the stove to be plated, and I sprint back into the kitchen. It was then that I realized I _needed_ to step between the tension of Amy and Jacqueline.

"Miss Amy, your dinner is outside your door." I call after scratching at her closed door.

"No… come in," a shallow voice calls. I cautiously turn the handle of Amy's chamber door. She sat in a window seat gazing at the blackened sky, flickering her eyes at me only for a moment. What I see in the red depths of her irises pains me and I pity her for all the trouble she and Jacqueline have gone through. I place the silver platter of food on her nearby desk and flatten my apron.

"Miss Amy, I sincerely apologize for your governess' intolerable behavior." Out of the corner of my eye I see Amy's gaze fix upon her short petticoat, and I felt so horrible that Jacqueline dared to call this tranquil girl such a sinful thing.

"Tell me what you think from your perspective," Amy says quietly, "about Jacqueline."

"Honestly I consider her like a sister, but nothing like an ideal one," I hesitate, "but to speak completely freely I am mortified at how immature she has been."

There is a silence, but Amy nods slowly. "She isn't the first to speak ill of my fashion… The only reason I wear this is how practical it is when it comes to fencing."

The skirt I was able to understand, but I could not imagine any person being swift at swordplay in that bodice. I could tell just by her posture and the look on her face that even now she was uncomfortable. I took a deep breath and wet my dry lips with my tongue. "Miss Amy…do you fence in that bodice?"

I notice something flicker in her eyes. There is another pause, in which she shifts uncomfortably then nods. I blink, looking down at the floor, almost speaking in return to that, but as I notice the silver platter holding Amy's meal I stop myself. I bow hurriedly. "Forgive me, Miss Amy, for I have stalled your supper." I depart her bedchamber, saying nothing more.

As I walk down the corridor I crash into none other than Master Sorel himself. "Forgive me, my lord," I squeak, bowing.

"Keep your head up when you stroll," he mutter then begins to walk away again. I have a chance so I take it, ignoring what Auguste said about taking time to think my actions over.

"Ah…my lord?" I call. He stops and turns his head toward me. Raphael's stern gaze makes me swallow my pride. I realize that it is an inappropriate moment to discuss such matters in the midst of the hallway. I scramble for something else to say.

"We are running short on red wine. If you wish me to I can go purchase more, that is unless you prefer white wine, which we have plenty of."

"The latter will suffice," Raphael answers, walking away.

"Yes, master." I acknowledge, then hurry off.

Ever since Jacqueline had offended Miss Amy I had grown more and more anxious to become her governess. Now whenever I delivered Amy's food she would allow my access into her room. We would converse as two girls would, speaking of poetry and literature, and I daresay that she has grown fond of me. Over the course of a week I decide to speak this over with Master Sorel as I deliver him his dinner.

I scratch at his chamber door once, expecting no reply as always, but surprisingly his cool voice beckons me to enter. "Your dinner sir," I announce humbly, trying to find a spot that I can set the tray on. I motion to gently clear a few papers to the side. "May I, sir?"

He nods. "Just be careful." I collect a pile of papers and stack them neatly, placing it on top of two books, trying not to notice the strange yet familiar drawings scribbled on them. If I had any sort of chance to converse with Master, now would be the best one. I straighten my posture and flatten my apron.

"Master Sorel…may I speak freely?" I say in a much smoother voice than I expected. He looks up at me from the edge of his book, and I take that as a sign to continue. "I have been noticing a constant strife between Miss Amy and her governess, Jacqueline. The least I can say is that she is not civilized around Miss Amy. That being said, perhaps you could consider placing me as governess? I do not think myself worthy of Miss Amy's presence, but I only want to serve her with the better."

He rises from his seat and stands in front of me, gazing into my yellow irises. Though he is taller than me, Raphael is only inches from my face. I swallow deeply, not wanting to make eye contact with him but feeling I have to. Raphael puts two gloved fingers to the edge of my neck, and my heartbeat accelerates at alarming speeds. He chuckles without smiling.

"There is no need to get so excited." He then spreads his two fingers apart and glanced at the skin of my jugular. At first I thought he was going to bite me again, but only muttered, "So they remain there." Raphael must be referring to the fang scars from when we first met; the day of the duel.

"Yes," I say, my voice rough because of the slight pressure of his fingers. "And they will forever remain, as my loyalty to you." I stare at his shirt so that I do not have to look into his mesmerizing irises. To my relief he begins to walk away, and I begin to breathe again.

"So…you think you are suitable to tutor my daughter?"

I know I am left with only one answer and I know it will make myself look foolish. My throat tightening, I utter out, "yes, sir."

"How many years of schooling do you have?"

Schooling? I begin to panic. My father taught me everything he knew – I could read, write and plow the fields to say the least – and often Edwyn would bring me books from the countries he travelled to. I could speak brief Czech, German and Latin but I was fluent in French, English and Gaelic. Amelie taught me many things about sewing, I could play the lute…all of the sudden I was scrambling for things to say – yet I had never stepped foot in a schoolhouse.

"I-I have not been to a school, but I have learned many things in the course of my seventeen years." I sounded so ridiculous.

"No education? Just wild knowledge?" Master Sorel did not sound disappointed, thankfully, and almost as though he was expecting that, or wanting, rather, that answer. "What is your best area in this 'wild knowledge'?"

"Well, sir, I… I can sew shirts, breeches and dresses, but I have a place of intelligence in the occult." He twitched a bit after I spoke.

"The occult?"

"Yes, sir." I bit my tongue. Perhaps saying such a thing would have offended him in religious terms. Curse my wicked tongue! Now he will turn me down and whisk me away from his service as a filthy witch. A horrible, sour taste erupted in my mouth and I felt like weeping.

"I suppose you shall be appropriate as Amy's governess. But how do you plan about the priorities in the kitchen?"

My heart leapt and time seemed to freeze. "I-I can adapt… w-worse comes to worst I shall have to teach J-Jacqueline how to cook." My speech is uneven and impaired, yet I am overwhelmed by relief!

"Very well then. You are dismissed." Raphael was now reading a novel. I bowed and quietly closed the door behind me. All of my worry of becoming Amy's governess and gaining Master's trust faded. My back hit the wall beside the entrance of Raphael's study, sinking until I sat upon the floor. It was so unnerving to be around him… He was so extremely handsome… I had won his trust, and perhaps I had succeeded in becoming his favorite, but I cannot think of myself so highly. My legs shaky, I hurry back to the kitchen to tell Jacqueline the news.

"Hm? Marienbard you look a little flustered. Have some stew."

I was amazed at what I saw; Jacqueline was cooking, and splendidly at that. Just by inhaling the steamy aroma of the hearty soup in front of me I knew she had used all the right ingredients. I give her a suspicious look, remembering the last time she attempted to cook, but she only scoffed. "Relax. Auguste came in just five minutes ago and ate. He'd fine, he rather enjoyed it, actually."

With her promising words I put the spoon to my lips and took a small taste of the stew. It was delicious! Far better than my starchy cooking – every vegetable and herb complemented each other. I took a few more bites to try and calm my blushing cheeks. She snickers with satisfaction and I look up at her with an awesome expression. "But…how?" I muttered. I swallowed, then rephrased. "If you're so good at cooking, then how come you almost served Raphael raw meat?" I shouted this like I was scolding her, when really I was thoroughly impressed.

"Well for one since he was a vampire I thought he could eat stuff like that. And I used to think cooking was a bore – since I was the only girl in my band of brigands I _had _to keep them fed – but ever since Amy got on my nerves I wanted this job back." She turned to ladle herself some of the stew then faced me again. "Happy?"

"Well," I say, placing my spoon in the now empty bowl, "the least I can say is that I'm surprised."

Jacqueline snickers. "Yeah, heh heh. So, what's up with you?" She asks, taking the bowl I hand her and putting her own in the already over-crowded sink.

"I'm Miss Amy's governess now. Don't give me that look, Jacqueline, she's not as bad as you exaggerate her to be." I flared my nostrils. "Sometimes you must be patient with people that are different from you."

Father had always told me that, and it always confused me. It was Catriona who should have been lectured; I treated everyone in our family equally, even Norienne; she did not understand things quickly and it took me many times to explain one simple factor of our serfdom to her. But I never complained or mistreated her, contrary to Catriona. It is no matter now, for I will never see my father again.

The sun seemed to set faster than usual, and the three of us retired to rest. Of course though I did not sleep, but instead stayed up late and began to think.

_Amelie… You gave me the courage to stand up to him, didn't you? _I prayed. _You gave me feminine strength, so I want to thank you for that. I can see your smiling face as I deliver this message to you right now. Isn't it such a small world that I would end up in Raphael Sorel's service? Oh, Amelie… if only you could see where I am right now… Tomorrow I shall use your guidance and talent; for I wish to sew a new dress for Miss Amy. I think amaranthine would be a lovely color on her… yes… If only you could tell me what it symbolized. I hope to see you again someday._

I took my gaze and mused out at the midnight sky, watching as the darkness was illuminated by a shower of comets. They seemed to be crowding over somewhere in the western region – it looked to be Germany. In the distance I thought I heard Master Sorel begin to cackle. I wondered what diabolical plans were brewing in his mind…to create this utopia for Amy…

Amy did not speak much to me the first days as my tutor to her – she read a few of her selected poems to me, most of them were about rain or poverty, and showed me one of her paintings. It was of a rose; such detail was put into the petals and the thorns… I was amazed that she had such talent for her age. Four years ago, I only had skill of swimming like a serpent and keeping my mouth shut.

"…I don't like the color of this dress," she muttered to me once while I was playing a quiet song on the lute. I ceased strumming the strings to hear her out.

"Mm…It would be blue, like violets… Even with a hint of purple. Things to describe would be like… unity and enlightenment. More jovial things."

"…violets. They are so full of life…almost as if they are…mocking me. I hate them. They are too bright. I prefer…roses."

"For elegance and fervor. Roses symbolize passion and devotion." I could clearly see Amy's point. Roses seemed to suit her much more than violets did… I began to mentally sketch out a new dress for her. I pictured embroidery of roses inside of the bodice, maybe in the stockings as well…

"Miss Amy…would you be interested in if I made you a new dress? Perhaps something more like your persona…I would use many rose petal patterns in it…"

Slowly I saw Amy nod.

"Do you know much of sewing? Perhaps you might like to assist me in the embroidery or the stitching."

"That… that would be fine…"

The next day I brought in the rolls of fabric I would need. I decided on tough material like leather and cashmere, things that did not wear away easily but at the same time were comfortable. I purchased faux fur for lining of the dress, I wasn't completely sure I would use it though, and lace. I made estimated measurements on Amy, since I knew she would feel awkward if I recorded her height or more importantly her bust. I too had felt shift when Amelie wrapped the measuring tape around my breasts… I did not want to discomfort Miss Amy in any way. I intended to make the numbers a bit larger than I thought Amy was because I did not want to strangle her like the bodice on her last dress did.

"Euh… I… I am not very keen with a needle…" Amy murmured as we were stitching the design on her lace stockings. I smiled to reassure her.

"It is alright. Picture it as though it were your rapier." When we first arrived in Wallachia, Raphael spoke endlessly of Amy's swordplay; how elegant and decisive it was. At my words, Amy seemed to already be making more vigorous stitches with her needle. "Yes, you're doing perfectly."

I believe that through the process of the dressmaking Amy grew closer to me. I told her much of the stories I read when I was in Ireland, all of the chapter of the majestic things from the occult books Edwyn gave me.

"My favorite thing to read about, though, was the Krita-Yuga." I narrated as we were threading the laces of the bodice through the holes in the cashmere.

"…that sounds vaguely familiar…"

"It is one of the Three Sacred Treasures of the Ling Sheng-Su Temple. They are of oriental origin: first, there is the Kali-Yuga, a rod that can absorb any type of energy, be it good or evil. Then there is the Dvapara-Yuga, a pendant that can purify even the most evil, bringing even the malfested to human form again. Lastly, the Krita-Yuga is a holy sword that brings order to rid the world of evil." I noticed that a strange, uncomfortable expression appeared on Amy's face. "That is all I know, though." I lied; in truth I knew ages about the Three Sacred Treasures, but Amy seemed to be awkward by the conversation, so I decided to focus on the dressmaking.

In time, we finished it. I was quite happy with the result: the sleeves and top hem of her dress were lined in the faux fur I decided to use, then down the side of the sleeves was an embroidering of roses which was colored a magenta-like hue against the black leather, then the torso had that same pattern and was laced together also. The skirt was a very dark shade of purple and made of cashmere; I decided to ruffle the hems so that it would feel loose. I cut the dress short like her previous one – for fighting purposes! – and her rose, lace stockings came up to her thigh. I noticed Amy blushing.

"Madame, your cheeks are flustered. Are you not pleased with the result? Are you feeling ill?"

"No… I am fine…" she murmured. "I… enjoyed making the dress. I think it is very pretty…"

I calmed myself. "I am happy that you are pleased. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Uhm… Well… I would like some…paper to write poetry on… Father should have some in his study…He's out in town so you could go in as you please…"

I bowed. "Of course, Miss Amy. I will return with them in but a few minutes." I exited Amy's room, feeling very comforted. It made me happy to see that Amy was enjoying herself…

My arms exploded into gooseflesh as I entered Raphael's study without permit from him. Even with Amy's bidding, I still felt uncomfortable. If I just quickly came and went, he would notice nothing wrong. I looked in his desk and found a journal sitting upon the face of the table. If I tore a page out of the back he probably would not notice it missing. However I felt insanely curious, so I flipped through the pages, just to see what he wrote about. Most of them were of things like a "Holy Stone" and having to destroy it… It sounded very similar to the Dvapara-Yuga… Other things were of Soul Edge and making a perfect world for Amy, of course… I flipped to the most recent log.

_October_

_I have found three of the guardians of the spirit sword. Even with the three of them, their fight was far from decent – and the woman with the ruby hair had the most grating voice. The man…he very well dressed like a dog, and fought no better. The third one, however, she might have put up to the guardian's reputation. I'll give her that her weapon was large and hard to manipulate; even so, her moves were indecisive and slow. They were not as I expected them to be, but the Irish woman seems to be intelligent, unlike the other two. I will start my journey for this "spirit sword" tomorrow and soon Amy and I will have our Utopia._

I swallowed hard. Raphael thought we were some sort of "guardians"? Auguste, Jacqueline and I were just simply in the wrong place at the wrong time… Suddenly I grew afraid. What if Raphael somehow figured out that we weren't who he presumed us to be? He would probably persecute us or cast us away and then we would have nowhere to turn. I knew much about the occult, so I figured that I would live up to my reputation, or his reputation at least. I feared for Jacqueline and Auguste. They did not seem to know much about this "spirit sword", yet Jacqueline did look like she knew a bit about Soul Edge. At least Raphael did not expect much from them. Taking in a breath I did not know I was holding, I quickly ripped a page from his journal and left his study, leaving everything as it was.


	12. Arial Pursuit

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Arial Pursuit**

"…you're leaving to find Soul Edge again, aren't you…?" I heard Miss Amy mutter to Raphael as Auguste, Jacqueline and I made the horses ready for our departure. When I looked into her eyes I saw an overwhelming amount of sadness, even when she kept such a neutral expression on her face. Suddenly I felt piteous, wanting to squeeze Amy's hand in a reassuring way, but I did not dare to approach her while Master was in sight.

"Not Soul Edge, Amy…something greater and far less dangerous than that. A 'spirit sword'…" Raphael comforted, smoothing the red hair atop her head. "With it I will brew a perfect world for both of us."

"…what if you get hurt? Remember the first time you went for the cursed sword…?" I saw Amy begin to tremble, and I took my eyes away from them, out of respect. I had no right to eavesdrop on their departing words, but my ears were still listening as I saddled the steeds.

"Then I was arrogant, but now I am wiser and stronger… You will not have to worry! That is in the past, Amy. I will return to you healthier than before, and in but a matter of time." He kissed her forehead, but Amy clutched tightly to him.

"Papa… I do not want you to go…!" Amy cried into his shoulder. Raphael hugged her even tighter than she did, telling her not to cry and whiping away her tears.

"When I return, Amy, it will be much worth the waiting… We will have our own world, and we will never depart again."

"Never again…?"

"Never." He hugged her one last time, and then turned to the stables to fetch his saddle and the bag of supplies Auguste had prepared. Seeing my chance, I approached Amy and knelt down in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Amy… Wait for him." I muttered, daring to look into her eyes again. In the depths of their red color I knew that Amy had the strongest will to depart on her own journey for her father, but in my yellow eyes I begged her to turn down the idea. "Please just…stay and wait for him." I repeated, yet I knew Amy would not listen to pathetic words of a governess. In the corner of my eye I saw Raphael returning, so I quickly turned and readied my horse before he could notice me conversing with Amy.

"Je t'aime, papa." Amy murmured.

"Je t'aime. Be a good girl, I'll be back in a while." Raphael mounted his horse, motioned for me to ride aback with him, then I nodded to Jacqueline and Auguste to mount their horse. We strode west, toward the place where I saw the shower of stars the other night, the silhouette of Amy and Master Sorel's manor becoming smaller with each gallop.

Once we were a few miles away from the mansion, Auguste spoke up.

"Master, where are we headed to first?"

"Our first destination will be Ostrheinsburg. There we should be able to gather useful information; and with those facts it will lead us to our next place of investigation."

It made me smirk how Raphael was content with heading to Ostrheinsburg just as Auguste, Jacqueline and I were. It must have been notorious for its encounters with Soul Edge! I believe I remember Master telling us that he had fought at Ostrheinsburg against the Azure Knight, coming home to Amy gravely wounded and malfested. If it were me, I would feel too stricken by harsh memories to even return to Germany – so I admired Raphael for his perseverance but also pitied him; his attempts almost seemed desperate at making a new world for Amy and he.

When we had departed for this journey at the Sorel manor in Wallachia, the sun had not even barely risen it was so early in the morning. By now, considering the amount of miles we traveled, I estimated we were somewhere in Bohemia or Hungaria, but my geography is poor considered to my other roots of knowledge so I am unsure. Nonetheless the sun seemed to be making Raphael weary and sick; I wanted to suggest settling down for a bit, but finally around noon he did so on his own. We dismounted at an oak tree on a hill overlooking a peasant town.

"Any notion to where we are, sir?" Jacqueline squeaked as she unloaded a satchel of food from the horse she and Auguste were mounted on.

"We should be in Hungaria. We will have to pass through Bohemia before we are in Germany's borders." He replied. I suppose my geography wasn't so poor after all. Raphael snapped in Auguste's direction. "Auguste, take some change and see if there is anything essential you can purchase in the town down there. Items such as…canteens would be nice." He paused and glared at Auguste in a repulsive way. "Why do you wear that mask, boy? It makes you look like a beast."

"I wear it out of respect, sir," was Auguste's terse reply.

Raphael turned from him and sighed, closing his eyes and muttering loud enough that we could all hear, "It must be some custom in that tribe of yours."

"What was that, sir—?" Auguste was about to ask before I motioned him away. I mouthed him to go, and he bluntly did so. I breathed in deeply, my lungs feeling dense.

"Jacqueline, you go and see if there are any rivers, streams or ponds nearby. If we can't find any source of freshwater, we'll have to move elsewhere." Raphael directed. Jacqueline made somewhat of a mocking gesture by saluting, then scurried off before he could grimace.

"Do you need anything of me, sir?" I asked quietly. As if forgetting about my presence, Master Sorel seemed to snap to his senses then pulled out a small journal – the same one I had torn a page from – and flipped to a page that thankfully was nowhere near where I had stolen. He pointed to the picture of a crystal-like sword on the page that he had sketched.

"This… Marienbard, do you know what this is?" he seemed eager. I identified the picture immediately.

"That is the Krita-Yuga, sir, one of the Three Sacred Treasures." I paused, then suddenly remembering something from a book I read, and continued, "It is also called Soul Calibur."

Soul Calibur… How is it that I had remembered that at _this_ moment? Surely upon my discovery of Soul Edge it would have flickered a spark in my mind… I seemed to remember everything I read about the Three Sacred Treasures of the Orient and their demolition of evil. I could recite every page of my book about the occult right at that second.

"Soul Calibur…" He muttered, almost in the same tone that I thought. He shook his head, as if the Krita-Yuga's second alias was extraneous information. "The… 'Three Sacred Treasures'; what are they, exactly?"

It looked like I would have to lecture again, like I had with Amy. At least I was deeply interested in this certain matter. "The first is the Kali-Yuga, which is a rod that can absorb both good and evil energy, the second is the Dvapara-Yuga, which is capable of purifying the malfested." Raphael had the same expression on his face that Amy had when I spoke of the Dvapara-Yuga. Perhaps it had some paining memory tied to it… I ceased, out of respect, and asked, "Shall I continue, master?"

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes."

I inhaled. "And the third one is the Krita-Yuga, or Soul Calibur. Its objective in this world is to maintain order and rid of all things evil."

"Is it in any way tied to Soul Edge?"

"Yes, sir; in fact its purpose, or 'destiny', is to destroy the cursed blade."

"Has it existed as long as Soul Edge?" Raphael tugged at his leather glove to have it more firmly fitting his hand, and his red eyes drilled into mine as he ordered for more answers.

"It is said ages ago that the son of the great Hero King Algol was murdered by Soul Edge and so out of mourn the king forged Soul Calibur out of purified shards from Soul Edge," said I.

"Do you know the current whereabouts of Soul Calibur, then?"

I bowed my head, my gaze fixing upon the faded grass then muttered, "I do not, sir."

Raphael sighed. "I suppose I was getting my hopes up, but an estimation of its location would be nice, no?" Even though he edged on the question, I could not come up with an answer. I tried to form a reply that made my false identity as a member of this "tribe" stronger by stating of their means.

"I am afraid I cannot answer to that either, sir. We do not have any knowing of the sword's location; we only pass on the legacy of the Hero King." Surely that would suffice.

"Very well," he murmured, and I could not tell if he was agitated or tired. I hoped it was the latter.

"Master…! Hah… There's a… little stream just… down the hill!" Jacqueline yelled in between pants as she ran back up to us. She rested her forearms on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

"Good." Raphael sounded monotonous, as if water was the very last thing on his mind, and I didn't doubt that it was. "Go to Auguste and bring him back. He should be finished by now."

Jacqueline gritted her teeth and glared at Raphael behind his back, snarling her fangs and breathing purposely heavily. A deep growling emitted from her throat as she descended down the hill once again to fetch her friend. I would have laughed at her annoyed expression, had it not been for Raphael in my presence and the many things possessing my thoughts. Instead I just watched her go with an almost apologetic expression as she had been doing much exercise while I just stood and conversed with Master Sorel.

When Jacqueline was gone and away from ear's reach, Raphael said to me, "Marienbard, picture yourself in my position. Where would you go next?"

I blinked, confused with his statement. "We were heading to Ostrheinsburg, were we not?"

He scratched his head. "Yes. Never mind." Raphael was acting very strange, but I decided to not linger any further. Auguste and Jacqueline returned at a most opportune moment.

"I got canteens like you asked sir, as well as blankets and bags of more food." Auguste announced, placing his bundle of items on the grass in front of him. Raphael narrowed his eyebrows.

"Why would you buy blankets when we will stay in cabins? Do you expect us to camp _outside_?" Raphael snapped.

Auguste shrugged, indifferent, but then bluntly replied, "I did before. I suppose not, though." I cringed at how sarcastically he spoke. Master just licked his pale lips then mounted his horse, extending his hand involuntarily to assist me up.

"A waste of my money," I heard him mutter quietly, then he yelled to Jacqueline and Auguste, "What are you waiting for? Mount your horse! Hungaria is clearly not Ostrheinsburg!"

And without another word we left and continued to Germany.

Only a day later we finally arrived in Germany, and thankfully we did not pass by the gruesome battlefield where my father was murdered as well as other innocent people. My hate for the Azure Knight grew stronger as those unsightly memories crawled back into my mind, but instead of clouding my thoughts with fear I decided to think about Edwyn. I wondered where he was and how he had been – thankfully he and Tryg had made their way from their hole in the ground. I told myself that once I was finished with my duties with Raphael that I would find Edwyn and live with him, wherever he was.

As I was drifted away by the past, Raphael abruptly pulled back on his reigns; the horse was caught by surprise and bucked backwards so that he stood on his hind legs. I almost fell off the steed, yet thankfully I acted quickly by wrapping my arms tightly around Raphael's waist. I went rose red as soon as I realized what I'd done, but once the horse ceased his fit I released my grip on him. Master did not seem to notice.

"Is that Ostrheinsburg?" Jacqueline said in an awestruck tone as Auguste fiddled to calm his horse also at the stop. Even from the back of his head I could see Raphael smiling, and without speaking his dismounted and headed toward what was evidently Ostrheinsburg.

The fortress seemed as though it had been ruined by countless years of war, and there were uncountable amounts of damage that siege weapons had done to its four citadels. Around the battlement was a river, or more likely a moat, as well as a drawbridge partially open to the public. Master Sorel obviously strode to the gateway, gazing up at it vigorously.

"Auguste, swim across the moat and lower the drawbridge," Raphael commanded without making eye contact.

"But, sir!" Auguste cried, appearing to be overwhelmed by how large the moat was. Raphael turned and sneered at him before he could finish.

"But, WHAT?" His red eyes seemed to glow with frustration. "Moats are made of WATER, of course you're going to get WET!"

Deciding not to anger Raphael any longer, Auguste reluctantly swam across the river and onto the rocky shore on the other side. Even from where I was I could see Auguste shivering – it was either that or he was shaking himself dry like a dog – but he still went to the rusted drawbridge gears and pulled the wheel with all his might. The handle would not budge from what I could see; Auguste was trying so hard that I could see the veins bulging out of his biceps as he attempted to make it move. With a sputtered breath, Auguste finally gave up and kicked the gear out of frustration. He gave the handle a mighty hit with his sword, and he even tried to slash off the chains that were suspending the bridge in the air. All of his efforts were futile and gave us no progress.

Raphael muttered a swear then yelled out to him, "What is the hold up? Why hasn't the bridge fallen?"

"The h-handle is too ru-rusted!" Auguste shouted in return, his teeth chattering.

I tried to look for something that would make this situation easier. From the east side of the moat I spotted an object floating in the water, and when I focused my vision closer to the object I realized that it was a raft, floating aimlessly on the moat! "Master, look!" I called, pointing in the direction of the raft. Jacqueline, Raphael and Auguste turned their heads to where I was pointing.

"Yes, that raft… Go to the edge and see if you can pull it closer to the shore." Master directed. I ran to the place where the water met the rocks and readied my scythe for when the raft came closer. When it was in preferable reach, I held the very end of my scythe's long handle and stretched my arm towards the raft's edge. The curved blade of the scythe hooked onto the wood of the raft and I heaved it closer to the shore.

"Well done, Amy!" Master called as he walked onto the raft, Jacqueline following.

_Did he really just call me Amy? _I thought, shocked. I kept my best neutral veneer as I lingered on that thought, and I was so deeply contemplated I almost forgot to get on the raft. Once I stood upon its wood surface, I used my scythe again like a paddle and slowly steered us to the side where Auguste was on, and he barely had time to leap on the raft the river was moving so quickly.

"Wait," Raphael called, I suspended the raft in the water as best as I could against the strong current. "Jacqueline, you stay there with Auguste and see if the two of you can manage to open the drawbridge. We will circle the perimeter of Ostrheinsburg and see if there is another opening. If not, we will continue to ride on the current and come back to the drawbridge."

"Aye, sir," Jacqueline squeaked out unwillingly, then jumped onto the rocky shore where Auguste was.

I steered the raft back into the center of the river, the current taking us along nicely. As Raphael scanned the battlement for alternative entrances, I looked at my reflection in the water of the moat, still surprised by how Master called me Amy. Did I look like her? Did I sound like her? I didn't speak out as much as Jacqueline or Auguste did… maybe my quietness reminded him of Amy. Maybe it was the blank and neutral stare I always had to paint on my face that made him think of Amy.

Suddenly, our raft crashed with another object in the water. With a silent gasp I looked up from the river and saw that we had collided with another raft, identical to ours, only atop it were three oriental people; one woman and two men. Raphael unsheathed his rapier from its hilt and held his fighting stance. Following, I held my scythe closely, scanning the trinity of Asians closely. One man seemed to be about twenty and was dressed in white, wielding a nunchaku; the woman seemed twenty or eighteen as well, dressed in sporty yet imperial noble clothing, a decorative sword in her hand. The third man was in a dark blue robe that had several split ends, and in his hand was none other than the Kali-Yuga rod itself. I gasped at what I saw; I had only read and dreamt about seeing it in person – and yet even when I looked closer, he had the Dvapara-Yuga pendant around his neck! This man had two of the Three Sacred Treasures. Raphael seemed to recognize the oriental man.

"He has two of the Three Sacred Treasures," I repeated aloud, only muttering to Raphael.

"Does that mean he would know about Soul Calibur?" He whispered in return.

"Most probably, sir."

Raphael smirked, then let out a nasty glare at the oriental man with the Kali-Yuga. "You shall tell me everything I want to know."

"You're…no longer human, are you?" The man with the Kali-Yuga said, a piteous look on his face as he prepared himself to fight. Just from how they looked at one another and by what they said; I immediately knew that they had met before. Raphael seemed enraged at the man's pity and thrust his rapier near his foe's chest, the man dodging just in time. So great was the impact of Master's sword and the Kali-Yuga that sparks flew. The attacking started quickly, and before I could turn around I had both the woman with the Chinese sword and the man with the nunchakus charging in my direction.

It was very difficult to fight them off; the two almost seemed to be mocking me as the leapt away from my slow attacks easily, sneaking behind me and surprising me with kick attacks and guard impacts. The man with the Kali-Yuga gave out a cry as Raphael sliced his arm, so like a little duckling following the mother goose the man with the nunchakus went to his aid in the duel. I was left with the oriental woman.

"That man is too dangerous!" She said as she guarded one of my strong slashes.

"I serve him," I spat through gritted teeth, frustrated with this girl.

"Is your resolve _this_ thin? You must carve your _own_ fate!" She spun her sword in an elaborate circle against my side which I luckily blocked in time. The woman would not cease in her teasing ways as she span around me this way and that, poking at me with her sword wherever there was an opening. "Over here!" she taunted, and I had it for the last time.

"Nuisance," I mumbled, too angry to yell. I hooked my scythe against the Chinese woman's bare stomach and swung her back, her body hanging helplessly on the blade as I threw here across the raft. Blood splattered everywhere from the large gash in her stomach.

"Xianghua!" One of the men called to her. I supposed that was her name, then. Xianghua shook her head at them in a reassuring way, as if to say that she was alright despite her profusely bleeding wound.

"Don't worry," I sneered, "it's fatal."

Xianghua wobbly stood up, her eyebrows creased and her face swelled up in pain. She held her arm against her stomach to try and staunch the blood, but it only stained the sleeve of her cropped jacket. Smirking and seeing my chance at her weak state, I dashed up to her, swinging my weapon in front of me but hitting the edge of her blade instead of skin. Amazingly, Xianghua held her guard as I pushed my scythe against her thin sword until both of us were trembling with the force. I tried to push her into the water, she tried to push me away; the opposing powers were holding us in one place.

I grimaced, not letting my fresh strength fall behind her when she was so wounded. The Asian's face became pale with the horrid pain, yet she bit her lip and held a hand against her sword's blade to add more push to her side. "Fall," I whispered, impatient with this performance. I heard two splashes of water, one right after the other, from the side of the raft that Raphael was on. He had managed to heave the two men into the water.

"Now, Marienbard!" He yelled.

With that bidding, I pulled back for a mere second then kicked Xianghua into the streaming river. Her gasp was lost into the current as her bloody body submerged in the liquid. I let out a shaky breath now that the duel was finished and looked at the cut in my arm. It was bleeding, but was nothing to quarrel about.

"Are you alright?" Raphael asked, walking towards me.

"Yes, sir." I nodded to him, then stuck the bloodied end of my scythe into the water, letting the current of the river wash the crimson away. "Did you get the information you wanted?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly, but I know that Ostrheinsburg will not be where we will find the spirit sword. We will fetch Auguste and Jacqueline and see where this raft can take us if we can get it out of the battlement." We turned and saw them where the drawbridge was at the exact moment he finished his sentence. "Any luck?" He called.

"No," Jacqueline replied, shaking her head then leaping on with Auguste as the raft almost flew by them. "Whoa! Time out! What's up with all these bloodstains? Were you attacked or something?" She squeaked as she stepped in a puddle of blood.

"Yes," Raphael said, halfway sighing and halfway groaning. "We're heading out of Ostrheinsburg on this raft for now."

Jacqueline pouted and whined, "Why do I always miss the fun?" but soon received a nasty leer from Raphael to stop talking.

We neared the far west side of the battlement and luckily Raphael's eyesight caught a glimpse of a cave that could lead us free of Ostrheinsburg; I immediately began maneuvering the raft towards the opening of the tunnel with my scythe like a gondolier, yet soon the current was drifting with us again as we entered the channel. It was a dimly lit passageway, with torches suspended against the stone walls, and bats hiding in the recesses of the underpass where the light of the fire would not reach them.

"Those bats are so annoying!" Jacqueline complained.

"They sound like you," Auguste grunted.

She puffed out her nostrils. "I'm sure under that mask you look as ugly as a bat!"

"HUSH!" Raphael shouted, waving his hand as if he were a conductor silencing his orchestra. "Don't you hear that noise?"

The earth seemed to shake – the bats, sensing a disturbance in nature, fled from the channel, squealing as if something had gone vitally wrong – a large swell in the river pushed the raft out of the tunnel and everyone almost fell into the water with the impact. The raft waded its way in the direction of the bats as they fled their shelter, yet soon the animals had flown away from our sight as we were left floating in a large lake where the moat mouthed in. The ground shook again; I looked over west at the exact time everyone else had. Upon the horizon was an ominous and large funnel cloud, grey and blanketing a strange occult-looking tower that seemed to stand so tall it touched the heavens. It glowed with its own amber light – I recognized the sky scraping structure immediately from my books.

"I didn't think it true…" I whispered aloud to myself, awestruck and my wide-eyed gaze frozen on the tower. I felt Master Sorel's questioning eyes on me, so I cleared my throat and explained, "When the Hero King Algol sacrificed himself for power to Soul Calibur and Soul Edge, a tower – made entirely of memories – rose from the ground. Fittingly, the spire is called the Tower of Remembrance, and it was said to rise again when Algol was resurrected…"

I could see Raphael's eyes shine with enlightenment. It must have been exactly the information he sought. He stretched out his arm and muttered something for us all to grasp it – we obeyed; suddenly a rouge-colored mist surrounded us and instantly we were on a stone bridge that lead out of the citadel Ostrheinsburg. Of course; I remember reading that vampires had the ability to form into mist, bats, or even wolves in some folklore.

Raphael sped into a jog down the stone bridge, his servants tailing behind him. I knew in all of our hearts that no one wanted to question that determination in his eyes, yet still Jacqueline said in a more serious tone than usual, "Sir, what do we do now—"

"No more questions," Raphael only murmured, yet it was loud enough for us to hear. "We are too close to doubt ourselves."

I knew that when Raphael said 'we' he meant Amy and him, but I could not help but let my thoughts squander. Perhaps I just stayed like this – running alongside my master, filling my servitude to him – perhaps it would not be a burden. I could spend the rest of my life doing his bidding gleefully – loyally. Every task that was set upon my shoulders I would exceed to the maximum, because in the end it would be for _him… _Curse the world, I could not escape it. I could not escape the fact that I had fallen in an obsessive love for Raphael.

But what about Auguste? The other side of my sanity seemed to scream this out at me. Had all of his sparks worn out? Had my once fiery passion for him died away? Perhaps…perhaps we were only meant to be so close. No more than brother and sister – exactly how I was to Jacqueline; or like she and her fellow brigands! She had called them 'brothers,' had she not? Yet she loved them all deeply and truly. Auguste was no more than family to me. Raphael was the one I craved, the one who _must _love me…wasn't he?

So much time was wasted on those thoughts – it seemed that as soon as we left Ostrheinsburg we had arrived at the Tower of Lost Souls. My mouth had fallen open so wide, it was sure to have touched the ground. The occult tales of the Hero King Algol were all true! And my sister Catriona had only called my beloved stories "lies written on parchment." Not even Father had believed them. Mayhap if he were still alive…after his experience with the demonic power of the Azure Night…mayhap he would believe me now.

Everything was exactly as described in my novels – the path was carved of beige stone, rising up in the air almost alike a craggily mountain pathway, with fiery liquid slithering against the side of the rock.

"What…what kind of place are we in?" Auguste muttered, and I did not know if he was fatigued from the heat or astonished by the sights. Perhaps both.

"There, master!" I said, shouting over the steam and hissing noises of the liquid fire and pointing forward, "that platform is where the warrior is said to 'fight away the gatekeeper, whomever it may be.'" I quoted exactly from my novel. Standing ahead of us was a woman with long, silky black hair that had been pulled back and was covering half of her face. She wore revealing, oriental clothing and a strange skull figure sat upon her shoulder. When the four of us approached, I saw her sneer.

"It's time to play," the woman said in a kittenish voice. "Here I come."

Immediately she charged at Raphael with her dual katanas, slashing the fabric of his black coat. I didn't want the woman to take his off-guard for granted, so I ran in and attempted to attack, but she pushed me aside when the blades of our weapons met. I was impressed by her strength.

_She must be some kind of demon, _I thought, _and that skull is feeding her power. _For its eyes seemed to glow crimson every time she attacked.

Raphael and she engaged in battle – dodging, parrying, striking, slashing – I seemed helpless as I laid on the rocky ground next to them, the heat getting to my head and making me a bit dizzy. I wiped the sweat from my brow; the battle seemed to be earning us no progress… perhaps Raphael had not noticed the pauldron on the woman's shoulder…

"Master," I called, "the skull."

Immediately his blade fell upon the bone of the skull, and the woman screamed – sounding almost like the yowl of a wild dog – then fell to the ground. I knew not if she were dead or just unconscious. Master did not linger on our victory. He took us down the road that had formed, heading closer to the Tower of Remembrance, taking a fast pace and long strides. I slowed a bit to walk next to Auguste and Jacqueline, who looked either afraid or anxious.

"Jacqueline," I muttered, "why are you so worried? Look at how far we have come."

Jacqueline said nothing but swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment, as if afraid I might see her shed a tear, and bit her lip. I blinked and looked at the road ahead of me, thinking that I could understand the emotions Jacqueline was feeling. Auguste's hand squeezed mine.

The enormous and elaborate doors of the tower opened slowly, and we encountered countless numbers of battles while we descended. We all fought ruthlessly against the warriors and monsters that were scattered about the endless floors of the building – I honestly think that Auguste, Jacqueline and I had the most blood on ourselves than Raphael…but who was I to question motives?

We reached the second to last floor. Already I had run out of breath from the fights and stair climbing – and at the sight of our opponents I was completely petrified. The first was a girl, her hair tousled and tangled into hideous looking pigtails with a ring-blade who would not stop giggling, the second was a giant; a golem – a terror. He rose eleven feet in the air and had an axe taller than Auguste. The last one, however…

It was the Azure Knight himself.

I had not enough words to describe him – he looked like a void…an abyss…only shrouded in blue armor and taking a humanoid form. His right arm was exactly as Edwyn described – grotesque, misshapen, enormous, and demonic. And clutched in that horrid arm was none other than Soul Edge.

Had it not been for Raphael's presence, I would have charged at the Azure Knight and slaughtered him until he was nothing left but a heap of crimson-stained metal.

"Tremble in my darkness!" The Azure Knight roared, his voice indescribable – like a mixture of thunder and howling winds.

"Worthless dogs… Learn your place!" Raphael taunted, almost with a look of pity on his face. The fight began.

Jacqueline and Auguste took on the golem – for they were fast and the giant was slow but powerful. Jacqueline had an easy tactic of sliding between his legs, then leaving an opening for Auguste. Their tricks worked for some time.

My responsibility was the lunatic girl. She giggled and spun her ring blade around her waist jovially, but I suppose in also a threatening way. "Eheheheh… Let's play!" She chimed, holding her weapon in a more intimidating position now. Raphael was to battle with the Azure Knight, but the girl was too distracting and admittedly far too strong for me to pay attention to his battle – or Jacqueline and Auguste's, for that case.

"Pretty… You're so pretty! Ahahahaha!" This girl was truly insane – here she was, handing out compliments like flowers as she slashed furiously at me with her blade, having a strong intent to kill. "My name's Tira," she called as she twirled away like a dancer from one of my attacks. "What's yours?"

I was becoming quite irritated by her joyous persona in the midst of the chaos. Aggressively, I swung my scythe at her so hard that she lost the guard of her ring-blade. "What a killjoy!" She squawked. "All I wanted to know was your name!" Her voice had gone very raspy and she was glaring at me in such a cold way… If looks could kill, she would have my head on a spike. I almost gaped at her sudden mood change. Tira was obviously psychologically torn.

We engaged in a long series of offense and defense. Tira had grown more aggressive and strong than I thought…I began to panic of whether or not I would win this fight.

My attention was stolen from the duel as I heard Jacqueline scream and the golem throwing her into the wall of the tower. The stained glass window that was there shattered, and she collapsed to the ground motionless. Just as she was slowly lifting her head and blinking out the rubble in her eyes, the golem snatched her up again and threw her on the ground with such force, I knew she had to have broken limbs.

"No-!" I began to scream, but Tira pushed me against the wall with her ring-blade against my throat.

"You've come all this way just to die," she whispered in that deathly, raspy voice. "I couldn't care less about you." Tira's eyes lifted, and she became jolly again. "You wanted to play a little longer, didn't you?"

I let out something of a breath or a grunt of plea – thinking I had no other option – but then I stomped on Tira's foot with all my might. She screamed (or maybe squawked) and doubled over. Seeing my chance I came at her with furious slashes, and she only grinned. "That's it! Show me you mean business!"

Time seemed to stop as I ran up to her, swung my scythe at her open hip – the skin tearing, the blood spurting – and clipped her to the wall with half of her side cut open. Blood poured everywhere and her face was frozen in surprise. Had I more strength, perhaps, I might have dissembled her legs from her torso completely. I did not linger on my victory. Turning on my heel, I ran up to the golem and – from being caught in the adrenalin, I suppose – hacked at him as if he were barely crops. He grunted and wailed in agony, then fell to the ground in a pile of cooled rock. Auguste had his eyes locked on me – whether it was a stare of horror, surprise or thanks I knew not for his mask blocked me from knowing. His skin and clothes were torn, and he bled in several small places.

Puffing out my nostrils, I knelt next to Jacqueline. A stream of crimson fell from her dry, thin lips. Dirt, blood, and bruises were smeared on her face and just about everywhere else. I glanced at her shoulder and saw that it was shaped in a way that it shouldn't have been, and her shaking right arm was holding it tightly. Despite everything else stained on her, Jacqueline's yellow eyes were fogged and moist – I almost believed she would perish right there in my arms – so for a wicked and anonymous reason I slapped my hand across her cheek.

"_Marienbard!"_ Auguste yelled. I saw him beginning to lunge at me, his hands aiming for my throat, but the tear that ran down my cheek must have ceased his actions. I kept my eyes locked on Jacqueline's.

"I… will _not _let you go," I said with a hoarse voice. Jacqueline's cool demeanor collapsed and she embraced me, sobbing. We said nothing more as I stroked her stringy, ruby hair with a trembling hand. I wiped away her tears and we both swallowed our weeps.

From the far side of the chamber, I heard metal crash and the Azure Knight's booming yelp, as if in agony. His armor clattered as he began to collapse to the floor. I had completely forgotten about the battle Raphael was engaged in. "You'll never hold the power to wield Soul Edge!" The demonic knight screamed with dying breaths.

"Soul Edge? I've already put that behind me." Raphael said in a completely calm tone. There was a small series of shaking, and a final staircase appeared at the end of the chamber. "Come," he said, "our final battle awaits."

I could all but feel my heart bursting out of my breast as we ascending the staircase. My arms erupted in gooseflesh – at the end of this staircase we would face the wielder of Soul Calibur… We would return to Romania and Raphael would finally have his new world for he and Amy.

And perhaps me, even. Did he not favor me? Did I not gain his trust? _Amy_ had trusted me, at least. Raphael was blind by his daughter's approval; maybe he would bestow me into his thoughts as well. Maybe…if I had the luck…he would view me as a wife… …a wife?

Something about that did not seem right. A _wife? _It was a hopeless thought – absurd! Neither luck, favor, trust _or _love would win me his kinship. There was a fact that I could not face that I had to realize; Raphael's heart was stone hard and cold as ice. Nothing else mattered in his world except Amy. Who did I think I was, hoping that I could even catch his eye? He was only using Auguste, Jacqueline and I to stall the enemies as he captured his prize. Once he had Soul Calibur, we would mean absolutely nothing to him. Our duties would be fulfilled – we would no longer be needed… What would he do with us? Just merely cast us away, banish us from his castle? Or would he _completely_ rid of our existence…?

I did not want to live in the darkness with Raphael any longer. I did not love Raphael. It was Auguste I wanted – a stream of light to warm me; not a glass of wine to quench my thirst. Once we were finished, Jacqueline, Auguste and I would escape from Romania – perhaps we would find Edwyn…or make a home of Amelie's vacant workshop. We would forget the darkness of the past and live in harmony.

The last step of the staircase crept under my shoe. I had passed the point of no return.

We were on the roof of the tower, the sun setting in the distance. I felt as though we were in the heavens ourselves. _Father? Amelie? Can you see me? _I thought.

Standing in the center of the platform was a young man – most probably in his twenties - in crystal armor with shaggy blonde hair. His eyes were as blue as the ocean and a scar was over his left eye. He was staring at Raphael with intent – it was nothing of a glare. In his hands was the large and radiant Soul Calibur, which looked as though it had been carved from diamonds. The man, evidently, had been expecting us.

"Siegfried Schtauffen," Raphael spit. "Or should I call you Nightmare."

The man named Siegfried winced. "Do not say that name," he muttered in a soft but brusque voice, haunted with turmoil. It was at this moment I began wondering who was really the just – the vampire Raphael, or this man Siegfried, who looked like a saint in his shining armor?

"For one who has sinned _so much_, it is quite ironic that Soul Calibur is the weapon you wield." Raphael taunted again, his words like poison. "So hand it over."

Siegfried's grip on the hilt of Soul Calibur only tightened.

I saw Raphael sneer. "You will regret not killing me when you had the chance." For a moment too long, the five of us stood in silence.

"There is something I must finish," Siegfried lightly stated with his deep and gentle voice.

"IT IS BESIDE THE POINT!" Raphael was growing impatient. "Give the sword to ME!"

Siegfried's eyes blinked only once, then he held his sword in an attacking position. "You're in my way," he grunted, seemingly impatient also. "Stand aside!" Siegfried almost seemed…hesitant to use force.

"How dare you? Just heed my orders!" Raphael unsheathed his Flambert.

The final battle had begun. Slowly, at first – Raphael came at Siegfried with strong thrusts and slashes – for a while Siegfried only defended against the attacks. Raphael's blade came down upon Siegfried's crystal chest armor; the protection cracked. It was then that Siegfried began to play a more offensive game. The Holy Sword and Flambert crashed together – I was surprised that against a weapon so powerful that Raphael's rapier had not broken yet. Perhaps it was Raphael's malfestation or his vampirism that gave the blade extra support.

I was lost in thought. Should I support my master? No… this battle was to be fought only with him. I had no relationship with Siegfried or with Raphael's connection with Amy… nothing really sentimental, in the least. So I watched. I stood in the middle of Auguste and Jacqueline, watching silently and innocently, as the two men severed each other with their swords.

For some reason, I closed my eyes and said a prayer.

_Amelie, Father… However this battle shall end, I will tell you not to look. Do not put your saintly gaze upon the victor of this battle. Do not look at Jacqueline, Auguste or me. We are as much sinners as the two are fighting this battle—_

My thoughts were erupted when I heard Siegfried's deep voice grunt and breathe deeply. My heart was beating so loud I knew Auguste could hear it. Even in the strain of my corset, my chest fell up and down with my short breaths.

_Please, dear father, Amelie, do not look!_

I did not want to look, but I saw Raphael standing above Siegfried, a look of pity – regret, maybe...humility – yet his words were harsh. "Why do you fight… when you know you will lose?"

"Why?" Siegfried's words were gargled at first, but then he spat out a bit of blood and spoke with dying grunts, "why do you shred me from my path of redemption?"

"What do I care of your motivations?" He glared at his fallen foe. "This is reality. Know your place." Raphael stuck the tip of his rapier in Siegfried's throat, and the man died without a single sound. I could all but stare in silence and shock. Raphael pried Soul Calibur from Siegfried's grip and smiled most deviously.

"Amy…we are close!"


	13. Crippled Wings

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Crippled Wings**

"What happens now…?" Jacqueline whispered, her voice not sounding like herself.

"We return to Ostrheinsburg," Raphael said with a proud, malicious voice. "It is there that the spiritual powers of Soul Edge will feed to Soul Calibur," he glanced at me over his shoulder, "right?"

"Y-yes, master." I murmured, my voice barely getting past the lump in my throat. He took his gaze from me, as if doubtful – or maybe it was just my worry.

"Then… I will create the utopia for Amy and me…" He said, more to himself than to us.

I gripped Auguste and Jacqueline's hands tightly as we strode behind Raphael.

The battlement Ostrheinsburg crept over the horizon. Walking across the stone bridge, we entered the citadel's throne room this time, which looked a bit similar to Raphael's manor. When we stepped inside, Raphael looked around eerily, Soul Calibur shining in his hand. He stepped forward, down the carpet and struck the blade so it stood upright in the floor, just a foot away from the strange chasm that stood ahead of him. "Marienbard, Jacqueline…stay here." He glanced around again, then he locked his gaze on Auguste, scanning him from his bare feet to his wolf mask. "Auguste, come with me. I need to speak with you."

Auguste obeyed his master, and the two walked out. Jacqueline and I stood silently at the sides of the carpet, waiting in agonizing suspense and anticipation.

"M-Marienbard…" Jacqueline whispered, her voice shaken and terrified. "Master Raphael…he k-killed an innocent man…!"

"Who?" I tried to keep my voice even as I always did, but it wavered as well. "Wh-which do you mean?"

"The Knight…!"

"The Azure—?"

"No, n-no… The crystal knight… S-Siegfried…"

I tried to scoff, but in my heart I knew Jacqueline was right. "We know nothing about…Siegfried. R-Raphael said himself that the man was a sinner…"

"If he was an evil man, why would he have Soul Calibur?" Jacqueline shrieked. My breathing increased as did her paranoia.

I swallowed. "Siegfried—the man did speak of redemption…"

"Raphael is evil. He plans m-malice!" Jacqueline was practically screaming.

"Jacqueline – calm yourself!"

"NO!" Jacqueline did scream this time. "RAPHAEL IS AN EVIL MAN!" Tears streamed down her cheeks and her voice calmed to a whisper. "Whenever before have you heard of a holy vampire in folklore..?"

I knew what she meant by calling Raphael evil. I put my gaze to the carpet and locked it there, whilst biting my lip and blinking tears. "Jacqueline, I will not let him kill you."

Raphael entered the throne room with pride. Jacqueline and I regained ourselves – I did not take a moment to acknowledge the blood on the edge of his rapier – and Raphael began to walk down the aisle towards Soul Calibur. He threw his sword to the ground as though it were a useless decoy. Jacqueline scrambled to retrieve it, but I mouthed her not to and motioned her away.

Raphael stood before Soul Calibur with his arms outstretched.

"Now, Soul Calibur! Create a new world for Amy and me!"

The moments were silent. I glanced to see if the spirit sword showed any activity, but it was still. I could see – even from the back of him – Raphael's face twist in disappointment. "N…nothing is happening," Jacqueline squeaked. Raphael frowned and turned to face me.

I twitched at his piercing red eyes. "Is Soul Calibur really the sword they claim it to be?" His gaze kept flickering from my glazed yellow eyes and the shaking of my hands I tried so hard to hide.

"Yes," I said with a bow.

He faces the spirit sword again, as if a thought erupted in his head. I tried to blink away the tears in my eyes – he knew I was lying.

"Ah, yes, of course. I should have realized," Raphael stepped towards Soul Calibur, running a finger under his nose, swung the sword and all too suddenly there was a large cut over my throat and my mouth filled with blood. My voice was too gargled to scream, so I collapsed onto the floor with a grunt. I did not know how long it was till I would perish, but I kept my eyes open as long as I could. Raphael had Soul Calibur pointed at Jacqueline.

_No, I will not let you kill her! _I wanted to scream.

"M-master! Raphael!" Jacqueline pleaded, her arms thrown above her to beg for mercy. I could see her trembling, even through my now fogging vision. Raphael only held the sword out at her, threateningly, and just when I thought he would spare her, he slashed at her throat more aggressively than he had mine. Jacqueline collapsed to the ground, her mouth formed around the word, "Why?"

"As of right now," Raphael gazed at the blood that now stained Soul Calibur, "this world truly belongs only to Amy and me."

He turned, as if to scold us if we were still living. "So, why should the two of you, even have been here?"

Raphael looked to the ceiling. "The mistake has been corrected!" He let out the most sadistic laugh ever to cross my ears.

_I have died in vain, _I thought as I laid on the ground. _I have died serving an evil man._

But wait – out of the darkness – was it Auguste? – running up to Raphael…No, it was shorter than Auguste. Shorter than I. Feminine. With ginger hair pulled into dual pigtails…

_Amy! _I thought. _No – I am just hallucinating. I am already dead!_

Hearing the steps behind him, Raphael turned – but he was too late to react as Amy pushed him off the edge of the floor and into the abyss-like chasm. He fell with a short scream, then I heard Soul Calibur clatter as it hit the ground also. Amy stepped towards me, kneeling over my dying body in the dress I had made with her. She dropped her rapier and pulled out a thick kerchief, pressing it against the bleeding cut on my throat.

"No, Amy!" I gargled through blood, then tried to spit it out as Siegfried had, but it spilled out of my lips and over my face. "I am dead! It is futile!" For some reason, I began to cry.

"Hush," Amy said in her emotionless, neutral voice. "You are not dying. I watched from afar – he only grazed you."

I did not seem to listen to Amy's words. "Au-Auguste! Jacqueline!" I cried.

"Jacqueline is dead. She choked on her own blood."

"AUGUSTE!" I screamed, then began coughing, for the blood clotted in my windpipe.

"Hush," Amy said again. "We have to staunch the blood."

So I sobbed as Amy knelt there, so silent and innocent, holding the cloth to my neck, gagging on my own blood. In what were only a few minutes, though it seemed like years, the blood stopped flowing and I embraced Amy. "An angel! A saint!" I wept into her red curls. I regained my character, I suppose, after realizing I would not die. "Go, Amy," I said in a hoarse voice. "Escape from this place. Forget everything…" I motioned for her to stand, and she did, surprisingly, looking at me with a half-open mouth and a sorrowful look in her eyes. "Leave me! Leave the cursed land of Ostrheinsburg! Do not let malfestation stain your blood!" Tears fell from my eyes. Amy slowly picked up her rapier.

"GO!" I said again, and she jumped, as if startled, then squeezed my hand.

"Maybe…we will meet again." She said quietly. I almost bawled at her consideration of me.

"Go," was all I said, albeit gentler. And Amy had disappeared in the darkness.

I scrambled over to Jacqueline's corpse and bawled. "My sister!" I said with a strange ring in my voice. The slit in my throat must have hit my vocal cords. Every word I spoke made it harder and harder to speak. I shakily stood to my feet and carried Jacqueline over my shoulder. I trudged out of the throne room to try and find Auguste. I saw his body laying motionless by the door of the throne room.

Unintentionally, I dropped Jacqueline's body and ran towards Auguste. I turned his body over – only to uncover that his throat had also been slit. I wept into his unmoving chest. He was the one I loved, not Raphael. How could I have ever loved such a monster? My dear Auguste…!

Hesitantly, I pulled away Auguste's mask with shaking hands. And beneath it! Auguste was so handsome, so beautiful – his hair was dark brown, his eyes amber. I could not hold myself back; I pressed my lips onto his, begging for a return. _Kiss me! _I wanted to scream.

I stood and threw Jacqueline's body over my shoulder and Auguste in my arms. I do not know how I did it. I began to sulk out of Ostrheinsburg, heading west somewhere. "My dear friends," I sobbed along the way, "my loves!"

Curse my luck. Now, I have lost everything. All my friends, all my family…they are all gone. Vanished. I will never see them again.

Somehow and miraculously, I ended up in the battlefield where my father was slain. The bodies had all but decayed, and all that was left were bones. Shielding myself away from the horrid sight, I limped into the stronghold that had once stood so high and mighty. It was now falling to ruins and laid vacant. I walked into the great hall and collapsed. The bodies of Auguste and Jacqueline lay next to me. I curled into a ball and wept until I fell asleep.

A sudden shaking disturbed my sleep, then a soft voice. "Marienbard?"

I am still dreaming. Either that, or I am truly dead.

"Marienbard?" The voice calls again.

Is it God? Please, oh Lord, do not take my life yet.

"Marienbard!"

I wake. Staring me in the eyes is Edwyn, his hair grey and face screwed in worry. I almost cry out in joy – yet knowing that it pains me, I wrap my arms around his neck instead. He hugs me back so tightly. "I thought you dead," he whispers in my ear. I feel his back shaking with sobs. I want to tell him to hush as Amy gently did, but all that comes out is "shh, shh."

He pulls me away. "You are but skin and bones…my dear child!" Edwyn does not say anything more. I think it is because he can't, so I haul Jacqueline and Auguste over my shoulders again. He shakes his head.

"I will carry the man…this was your friend, wasn't it?" He asks. I do not feel like answering.

"More than that, it appears." Edwyn almost reads my thoughts. "Come. We will return to my home."

Edwyn had settled in a cottage many miles away from the battlefield. I was glad, for I did not want to step foot in that nightmare again. We made arrangements that I would live with him for now on, and he whisked in a doctor to see about the slit in my throat, which had become infected and was practically poisoning my vocal cords. The doctor had stitched my throat closed since Raphael had slit it open just a bit.

The cost was that I would lose my voice. It had to be done, for after all my sins, I do not deserve to be heard.


	14. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE:**

Seventeen years have passed, and I have not spoken a single word. Edwyn has grown old and weak with the fever – it is many times a day that I try to nourish him and cool his burning head. I have tried herbal concoctions, tea, and even magic…all of my efforts have proved futile, though Edwyn has smiled and thanked me for trying.

Auguste and Jacqueline lay down in the earth in graves right outside of the cottage. It is my sanctuary out there, in front of their tombstones, and I leave them several flowers a day. I keep Jacqueline's dual daggers and Auguste's broad sword in a chest, hidden away in my bedchamber. I do not even let Edwyn lay a hand on them; they are so precious to me.

My discipline for combat has changed. Perhaps two years ago I traveled back to Raphael's mansion and stole one of his rapiers. I do not know why I returned to his manor – for some reason it gave me some sort of relief to see that Raphael was deceased and Amy no longer in his habitation. The theft of the sword – I suppose – was to merely brag that I had survived from his malice. I now use the rapier instead of my scythe to fight.

As for Amy, it seems that every day I wait anxiously to see if she will walk in through the door. I have attempted to write to her, wherever she may be, but found it useless since I know not where she resides. I hope she is well, and I buy roses from the town nearby as much as I can, in some sort of prayer that she will have a safe journey – whatever it may be.

I have cut my emerald hair – once before it swayed past my hips – now it just barely curls around my chin. I prefer this much better, for I do not have to constantly meddle with it. Taking my thoughts of Amelie I made new clothes out of my previous maid outfit from in Raphael's service. Perhaps I shall even change my name. Many of the residents and neighbors from the close towns call me an old maid (yet I am only beginning my thirties!) since I have never considered marriage. I do not want to linger with them to tell them the story of Auguste.

I do not do much but dawdle in the past. Many of my dreams are filled with the adventures I shared with my dear loved ones, and many of them are also adventures that I would wish to have had. A new generation of heroes has begun, evidently, and I know not of the status of Soul Calibur and Soul Edge. It haunts my past so greatly that I prefer not to think of the twin swords.

And thus the emerald maiden has fulfilled her servitude…

* * *

**This has taken me EIGHT MONTHS TO WRITE. That's a long time. I am so proud and happy that it's done with. XD**

** I hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to rate, review, favorite...whatever you please... I REALLY ENJOY FEEDBACK. Hint hint. ;)**

**A HUGE shout-out to ThalieXVII (sorry if I didn't get that right!) for keeping me going. This fanfiction is awesome because of you! :D**

**Thanks again for reading! I know it was a sad ending but it was canon so... :)**

**~_Maedel II_**


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